Void Contract
by obsidian-fox
Summary: (Divergence & Crossover) Before leaving China, a demon attack initiates a fix in the relationship between father and son... and Ranma is attached to a few more girls. (On hiatus.)
1. Prologue

Void Contract

Prologue

obsidianfox

Started: June 25, 2004

Last Update: September 10, 2004

Disclaimer: Many characters used in this story were not originally conceived by the author. Ranma ½, 3x3 Eyes, and various other works of literature and art are used. This work is not for commercial use. I appeal to Copyright Fair Use in keeping this work legal; as such, I consider it fair use for you (whoever you are) to use any original characters or settings in derived works, should you choose to write one. Void Contract may be archived.

The disclaimer above applies to Void Contract as a whole and to each individual chapter of Void Contract. Should a chapter be posted seperately from the gestalt, the disclaimer must be posted with it.

(ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo)

Genre: Drama/Angst/Action

sometimes a little Dark, sometimes a little Humor

Rating: R – lime, cussing/insults, gruesome bloody battles

Plot Summary: (Divergence)

(WARNING: Summary contains a few spoilers.)

Nine months before going to the Tendos for the first time, Ranma saves Sanjiyan Parvati III (3x3 Eyes) from a demon while in Hong Kong. However, he is soundly defeated and severely beaten by said demon; death is inevitable, even for a man of Ranma's caliber. However, Parvati's magic restores him to health, and she has only one magic that allowed her to do so: she steals his soul and turns him into her immortal Wu. Before he wakes up and thanks her, she is carted off to jail due to misunderstandings. She never learned Ranma's name, but that will be rectified.

Genma insists advanced training in the art in response to the attack, and unseals his forbidden Yamasenken and Umisenken. On the next day is yet another demon encounter... and another girl... and a few agents with black suits and a neuralizer... all of which find themselves to be pawns involved in a great Chinese conspiracy. Will Ranma's newfound powers and Genma's advanced skills have the strength to overcome these trials in China? And how will being forged in these Chinese fires change Ranma?

The first "book" takes place during Ranma's time in China, starting about nine months before he returns to Japan in canon Rumiko Takahashi. The story begins with Ranma recovering from an attack.

(ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo)

My head pounds. The crisp sounds around me are muted to a dull roar; a car honking, people talking, the drum of light rain on metal all fade into white noise. I take a deep breath and hear some of my ribs shifting against the strain.

A muffled voice asks me something in sweet, dulcet tones. Insistent light probes my closed eyes, seeking a way in.

I open my eyes slowly, and immediately regret it. White pain lances my brain. I bring one of my hands up to cover my eyes... or at least I attempt to; I hiss as pain shoots from my arm and makes the incessant throbbing in my head even worse. I squint my eyes and try to turn away from that stray sunbeam which conquers the clouds above.

I briefly try to remember why I'm on the ground. I must have been in a fight... that is the usual reason I get hurt. I feel as though I lost, badly. Oddly, though, I can't remember anything of the actual fight. Well, there is a vague memory of a dragon and a frog, but nothing that makes any sense. That must be a dream.

A shadow moves across my eyes, for which I was quite grateful, and I look up to vaguely see the outline of a figure kneeling near my head. I blink twice, trying to bring it into focus.

"Are you alright?" the figure above me asks, sounding concerned and very female. She has a very nice voice. Slowly the sounds around me return to normal, and I find myself staring into the violet-blue eyes of an attractive young Asian girl with reddish-brown hair, about my age, wearing some dirty brown clothes and a look of concern.

Around me I hear footsteps and see the polished shoes and slacks of people going about their business. A few people had stop, probably to gawk at my condition.

I force my pained visage into my trademark confident smirk. "Of course I'm -" cough! "- okay?". A ferrous taste filled my mouth and a few small bits of red (blood?) paint the forehead and cheek of the girl above me.

She doesn't even flinch; instead, the girl smiles, all concern gone from her face. "Oh! Good! Then I'm glad you're alright! I wanted to thank you for saving me!"

I twist my head slowly, painfully, and look to see why my chest hurts so. Cough! cough! More blood fills my mouth. "Say," cough! "is that a pipe sticking through my-" cough! "chest?" I painfully begin to inhale. A strange bubbling sound is heard from my chest and throat.

The girl turns to look at the pipe, still smiling. "Why, yes! Do you want me to pull it out for you?" Before I can protest, she reaches to grab the pipe, and uses it to leverage herself to a standing position, and immediately jerks on it in an attempt to pull it out. She frowns briefly when that doesn't work.

"It's stuck," she complains. Then her eyes brighten. "I know!" Her smile returns as she begins to wrench the pipe back and forth, up and down, ignoring my protesting screams.

"Ahhhhhhhhhh!" I cry out in a vain attempt to make my discomfort known to the oblivious sadist above me. Up. My rib cracks against the pressure. Down. My spleen is punctured by large fragments of rib. Left. My back slips a disk as it is twisted. Right. Sweet darkness steals my eyes and my pain.

I hear one more thing before the darkness steals my ears.

"Yatta!"

(ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo)

"Get up, boy!" a familiar voice hisses at me. It is obvious he wants to shout, but is keeping his voice down for some reason.

I grunt, then turn over, sure that I'm dreaming, or at least that I want to be. Or maybe it was a nightmare... something about a giant frog demon and a sadistic girl with a pipe. Perhaps waking up is a good idea. On the other hand, I feel like I'm in a bed, and it's very comfortable. I consider the possibilities for a moment with my eyes closed.

"Grrr."

I feel a large, calloused hand grab my ankle and then find myself flying. Out of habit, I yawn loudly; my throat tightens, my lungs expand as much as they can, and my ears pop, relieving a pressure I wasn't even aware existed. I stretch my arms and legs, then open my eyes and look around.

I'm outside a tall city hospital, at night, and rather naked except for a sheet that managed to get carried out with me. And, I'm falling fast... although I still have several stories to go before I'd meet the ground. Acting quickly, I wrap the sheet around my waist for modesty, then prepared to break my fall.

After I land, I roll to a stop, then stand and look up in time to be hit in the face with something soft. It's one of my gis, and smells clean. Above, a portly bald man with glasses and dressed in a white gi zips up his backpack before he lands next to me.

"Well, get dressed boy! We've got training to do!"

"Baka Oyaji! You just want to skip paying the hospital bill!"

The taller man glares down at me. "Respect your father, boy. There is a lot of training to do. You aren't even injured; what in the many Chinese hells were you doing in the hospital anyways? And in the intensive care ward, no less?" His eyes narrow briefly. Then they widen and he chuckles. "Sure, boy, you may pay your hospital bill after we complete training. Just go back in and leave your name."

I consider this. I don't even have a job, and it might take months to pay even if I did. Also, it is true that they don't have my name. Maybe skipping out on the hospital bill has its merits. Besides, if I wasn't injured, then why was I in there in the first place? They have no right to charge me like that.

"Well, boy?"

"No time for that, Pop. We must start training immediately!"

The doors to the hospital open and two security guards stepped out with flashlights. They shout something Chinese in our direction. The nearer of the two turns his light towards us. Spotting my old man and me, he shouts, " Halt! "

I've heard that word plenty often.

"Then let's start with a little running, boy! Here!"

A large pack lands in my arms.

(ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo)

"I'll get you this time, Pops!" I jump up towards him from a nearby building, and charge towards him to execute yet another a small flurry of punches and kicks. Sweat from hours of exertion flies from my hands as I swing in vain.

The old man blocks a few and dodges most of the rest.

"You're slow, boy, and weak! Don't slack off! You've been resting on your laurels far too long. It is time you advance in the art." With that, the stout fellow is suddenly outlined in a faint, but visible, bluish aura, and promptly begins to beat me to a pulp.

Again.

He's done this a half-dozen times already.

Slam! Smack! Thud! My head bounces off the concrete after my pop's blows move around and through my desperate guard. I kick myself back to my feet, only a little woozy.

I defend as best I can against the relentless onslaught, but Oyaji's punches and kicks are coming in harder and faster than ever. A fourth and fifth blow make it through my guard, pummeling me into the ground. Again. How is my pop defeating me so easily? I usually at least stand a chance. Then again, he usually holds back. Now he's just making it obvious.

What is that blue aura? Is that ki? The old man had talked about ki before, but I thought it was just some mystical nonsense like curses and demon frogs. Has the old man has been holding out on my training? I grow angry at that thought.

"I'll get you yet, old man!" I step in for a strike.

The old man smirks proudly as a glint of glowing red reflects off his glasses, and dodges the strike. "Not until you can do this conciously, you won't!" With that, the aura he held shines brightly visible, and he strikes me in the chest. I fly back, bouncing twice off the concrete before sliding to a stop. Ouch.

I lie on the rooftop a few seconds to recover my breath, and the old man approaches haughtily. As he gets closer, I sit up and wipe some sweat off my brow with my forearm.

At this moment, a few stray rays from the rising sun catch us, just a little earlier than the rest of Hong Kong. We are atop one of the taller buildings. Sunrise; we've been fighting since I was tossed out that window almost six hours ago.

"What's that, boy!" Pop points a finger at my head... or maybe at something behind it.

"Huh? I'm not falling for that trick again, Pop!"

"No! What is that marking on your forehead?"

"Unless it's a bruise, I'm not sure what you are talking about, old man!" I glare up at him.

He glares back. "Let me look at that!" He steps up and grabs my head with his two hands; I fight it briefly, but then calm down as he lifts my bangs with his warm, sweaty hand. Apparently there really is something on my forehead.

"So, what is it?"

"It looks like writing, son." He rubs it a bit. "This had better be temporary. You didn't go out and get a tattoo yesterday, did you, boy?"

"Of course not!" I snort at the ridiculous thought. "What does it say?"

"It isn't Japanese, boy, but I'm betting it just says 'baka' in another language. What did you do yesterday? You shouted something and took off, and I find you in a hospital twelve hours later!"

"I can't remember."

"Don't give me that, boy! At least tell me what you went chasing after!"

"I can't remember!" I shout. I'm more irritated at my own inability to remember than by my father's nagging. All I remember is waking up with a weird dream and promptly being tossed out a window; the dream was something about giant frog demons and a sadistic girl with a pipe... and I'm sure pop doesn't want to hear about those.

Besides, dreaming about a sadistic girl makes me a little uncomfortable; there is no way I'm getting into a relationship where I'm abused on a regular basis and where the other party enjoys nothing more than my own pain and suffering. I glance at my father. Okay... I'm not getting into ANOTHER relationship like that.

"Aha!" Oyaji exclaims. "I'm betting you spotted a bar and drank alcohol until you couldn't see straight. Then, in your drunkenness or some other foolishness, you allowed yourself to be convinced you want a tattoo. Then you were somehow stupid enough to get it on your forehead, of all places, and for it to be writing, not even in Japanese, instead of a cool picture of some sort. Foolish boy! If you're going to get drunk and get a tattoo, at least get it done right!" Upon saying this, the old man ripped open his gi, displaying a disgusting amount of flab and a grotesquely deformed panda tattoo on the left side of his belly.

"Ewwwww." I tore my eyes away from the thing. It was like looking at roadkill panda. It is obvious the tattoo looked horrible even before pop put on a few pounds.

"Or... or, is it possible you lost a martial arts drinking contest? To think one of my own flesh and blood would do such a thing!" Pops bawls his eyes out for a few moments. Then he shouts, "I know! We can get another tattoo over that one, to disguise it! I wouldn't stand for my son having 'BAKA' written on his forehead in any language. What to do? A phoenix? A dragon? An underwear chasing troll?" The man's girth shudders a bit. "I wonder if they have the equivalent of whiteout for tattoos? What will Nodoka think!" He begins bawling again.

Actually, some of those ideas don't sound too bad! My old man may be onto something. Who is Nodoka? Well, I want to move on. "I'll just cover it for now, pops; if it is one of those temporary tattoos, I don't want to get a real one to disguise it before it goes away! If not... we'll see."

The old man stops bawling immediately, and his eyes are completely dry as he looks at me seriously. "Yes, boy, that may be for the best. For now, let's get back to training. You must improve today, for you have no idea what kind of demons you might encounter tomorrow!"

Giant frog demons? I almost ask.

My stomach growls loudly.

"Hungry, boy? A real martial artist can go days without food! However, I'll allow you to take a break for a while."

I roll my eyes. There have been plenty of times I went days without food... enough that I'd never do it voluntarily.

My old man takes a seat next to me, and gazes towards the sunrise, as though contemplating it. After a little over nine years of travel, I've grown long used to these rare moments of comfortable silence between eating, sleeping, and taunting or nagging each other, so for a little while I just sit next to him.

After a few minutes passed, the expected happens; the old man's stomach growls as loudly as my own had, and he stands up saying, "That was long enough, boy. A martial artist has got to feed his body, you know. Let's eat."

We both stand up and began to reverse our path to where we left the pack when the fighting started.

(ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo)

Far below the roof of that building, a paperboy makes his rounds and drops off the newest Chinese tabloids.

--- Witch kills boy and steals his soul! Exclusive interview! ---

A large picture of a young girl shoving a pipe into a young boy's chest appears alongside a clearer picture of her with her arms handcuffed behind her back, being shoved none-too-gently into a police vehicle, while another officer stands near with a long, bloody pipe held in latex gloved hands.

"I was just trying to help him!" she says.

"We plan to try her under the fullest extent of the law, probably attempted murder. Initial prognosis is that the boy will never awaken," says one justice seeking officer.

"I swear it, she has three eyes and the third one stole his soul!" shouts a young ex-salaryman, struggling against his newly fitted straight jacket.

--- Aliens fighting in the streets! Exclusive! ---

A few fuzzy pictures of a large green blur fighting against a smaller white blur are followed by a couple pictures of the green blur's body parts, cleanly dismembered from their host. Several pieces of the head are grouped together in one picture, and look vaguely like a frog.

To the untrained eye, it all looks fake.

"My house was destroyed in the fight! A bald man cut it in half by shooting something from his arms!" complains one unfortunate lady. A picture of an older woman and her house, which is cleanly cut in two pieces, gives testament to this unlikely fact.

"I'm wondering if that meat is any good," says an opportunistic chef.


	2. Icecream Diaries

Void Contract

Chapter One: Ice-cream Diaries

obsidianfox

Started: June 26, 2004

Last Update: July 01, 2004

Some people drink deeply from the fountain of knowledge. Others only gargle.

-- Grant M. Bright

(ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo)

I'm Ranma. The slob sitting across from me, wiping a little ice cream off his chin, is Baka Oyaji, although his given name is Genma. We are Saotome. He is a master of the Masubetsu Kakuto Ryuu, and I am his student... and, as much as I sometimes hate to admit it, his son.

Now is one of those times.

"Baka Oyaji! You didn't need to steal the ice-cream cart!"

We are currently in a small park; a small ice-cream trolley sits next to us.

"Have you no sense of adventure, boy?" Genma asks; his eyes narrow and he glowers at me. "Besides, I didn't steal it. He gave it to me."

I snort. "Yeah, right pops. Then why did he and that girl chase us halfway across Hong Kong?"

"I think she just wanted to know your name, son." He grins, proudly. "I remembered to not tell, this time!"

I groan. This situation feels oddly familiar, but I cannot remember why. Finally, I shrug and ask, "So, is there any strawberry flavored left?"

Genma grins widely, grabs a cone and scoops a large portion of strawberry ice-cream for me. He passes it to me, eyeing the portion as though giving up that much reluctantly. As I begin to take a few licks, the grin disappears and he sits back, looking serious.

"We need to talk, son. Yesterday I encountered a -"

"Yeah! We do need to talk!" I break in. "What was that blue aura thing, and when are you going to teach me!"

A large dollop of strawberry ice-cream slides off my cone and onto my wrist. I raise my wrist to my mouth and start licking it off.

Genma grins a little; "I've already started teaching you, boy. As for what it is, an aura is a projection of oneself – it is born of spirit, mind, and body; it is as real as your arms and legs. Everybody has an aura, but most people cannot use it conciously. My master could read and detect auras to determine who was near, their position, and their basic state of mind, even if they aren't martial artists.

"He told me that much, boy, but never told me how to do it. I hear that a skilled person can hide his or her aura while not actively using it, but I haven't learned that either."

I frown a bit. "If everyone has an aura, why could I only see yours, old man?"

"Umm..." Genma scratches his head and thinks a bit. "The word is manifest. An aura manifests, or becomes visible, when the aura is powered by ki energy, or is acting as a conduit for it; I think." He grins stupidly, then lowers his hand from his head. "Err... maybe some physics or thaumaturgy classes would help? That isn't really my area of knowledge, son."

I eye my old man warily. It looks as though he is trying to speak seariously with me... he's watching his words... he's THINKING before he speaks, which is something I've rarely seen him do. Is he trying to avoid agitating me into another fight? I'll let it slide for now.

"Ki? You always talk about it. What the heck is that? Is ki different from an aura?"

"I'm not exactly sure what ki is, boy. I only know that it is your life energy; you use ki to move about, to think, to do just about anything, just like a robot would use electricity. Of course the body of a real man is much more complex; ki allows our cells to heal faster, and toughens every part of our bodies, where too much electricity would just fry a robot."

Genma pauses and frowns a bit, thinking.

"It might be possible to harm yourself if you channel ki or other energies from an outside source, as my master could do. Anyhow, boy, everything living has ki. The more ki you have, the tougher and stronger you are. Ki lets us do things like jump from rooftop to rooftop, or drop from the hospital window without breaking our legs. If you ever use ALL your ki, you will die, boy, so be sure to always have some in reserve... but your body should normally prevent this from happening by knocking you unconcious.

"My master was over three hundred years old, and got that way mostly by growing his ki."

My eyes widen at this; I always wondered why Oyaji and I could do that. I'd been thinking it was just training, but how could training alone make the bones strong enough? Besides! Three hundred! Wow, I could really become a great martial artist with that much time! Just look how far I've gotten in almost sixteen years! "How do I grow my ki?" I ask, enthusiastically.

"Like you grow any other muscle, boy! You eat a lot of food, you push yourself to near your limits, you rest, and then you repeat. Go for faster, higher, harder, tougher, stronger... push your body. You've been growing your ki for nine years, now, and have way more than most people. Of course, pushing your ki use to your limits becomes easier if you are consuming ki conciously. There are many ki-based techniques that aren't aura-based at all... they grant speed, strength, or stamina. However, some auras and aura techniques allow massive use of ki in a small amount of time, thus allowing you to push your ki muscle very easily, and thus grow your ki even faster. Energy blasts are a good example."

I ponder this for a moment. "So, if ki powers the rest of the body, and since my aura is like an extension of my body, I can use ki to power my aura?"

Genma smiles proudly. "You got it, son! You can use ki to power your aura. Then you use your aura to do things that just can't be done with your arms and legs. Of course, not only can you empower your aura, but as I mentioned before you can use it as a conduit to channel your ki, and learn new ways to apply your life energy. The difference is like that between strengthening your body and learning a new martial arts technique. Since your aura is formed from your body, mind, and spirit, it is potentially considerably more versatile than things formed from your body alone... but only if your mind and spirit are as flexible as your body."

"Okay! Now teach me how to use auras!"

"Well, you already know how to use your aura subconciously. I just need to teach you to manifest one conciously... sorta like potty training, as little as I want to do that again, boy. You manifested an aura during our combat earlier."

Eww. Potty training? Baka Oyaji needs some work on his analogies. Did he say I manifested an aura? "I manifested an aura?"

"Yes, boy. Yours was red, likely reflecting the anger inside of you for being beaten to a pulp a dozen times. Heh."

"I was NOT beaten to a pulp!"

Oyaji raises an eyebrow and smirks, then continues. "An anger aura grants a great deal of physical strength and endurance, but hinders your perception and thought, so it isn't something a true martial artist should depend upon. It makes you too vulnerable. That's how we finally beat the master."

My shoulders slump a bit. "What is blue?"

"Confidence mixed with a little pride, in my case, boy. However, the color of an aura hardly tells everything about it... blue also manifests for water and cold based auras, for example. Don't depend on your eyes too much."

"There are auras based on cold and water?"

"Yes. Auras are based on the motion and position of your body, the state of your mind and thoughts, and your spirit. It is possible to create an aura based on about anything you can... 'be', at least to some degree, in mind, body, and spirit. You can be angry, you can be confident, you can be hot or cold. I know for a fact that some auras are based on animal spirits, such as the preying mantis or the cat."

"C-c-cats?" My face is ashen.

Genma flinches a moment, and looks away from my eyes before continuing. "Animal based auras are quite complex, but are powerful at enhancing one's perception, skills, and weaponry. Some auras are based on elements, such as fire, water, metal, plant, and air. I've heard of auras based on professions, like loud thieves and quiet thieves." He grins a bit.

"You would!" I grimace.

"If you're upset with that, you can figure out auras based on police officers and detectives." Genma grins wider. "And then create a set of martial arts techniques that utilize the auras; auras are often useless without techniques. You can do that when you're more skilled. Anyhow, I've heard there are also aura-based techniques based on Zen, the void, the absence of thought or emotion. However, most auras people use are based on emotions. Faith, rage, righteous anger, greed, pride, lust, confidence, shame, envy, guilt, love, happiness, contentment, excitement... any of them and more can be used to create an aura. I think."

"You think?"

"I was never formally taught about this boy. My master," Genma shudders, "may he rest in many pieces forever, taught me much the same way I'm going to be teaching you... by using aura powers against me. The rest is speculation and experience. I'm... sorry, son. I'm not really licensed or qualified to teach this."

My eyes widened. Baka Oyaji... apologized? In fact, he's been talking way above my head for a while now. And he actually sounds as though he knows what he's been talking about.

"Who are you and what did you do with the real Genma Saotome?"

Genma grins widely and proudly at me. He then ruffles my hair a bit with sticky ice-cream fingers, and shoves my bandanna around a bit. I reach up and shift the red bandanna back into place over the tattoo.

"I spent some time thinking about stuff yesterday, while you were running around drinking sake and getting a tattoo. Your actions shame me, boy."

"HEY! It wasn't MY idea to get a stupid tattoo!"

"Are you sure? I mean, you were in the intensive care ward; you probably had so much alcohol they had to pump your stomach, boy!"  
  
"YEAH! I'm sure! And I didn't drink nothin!" I snort, indignant. Did I really drink? I can't remember. But if I drank THAT much, I'm sure I'd have woken with a hangover. Or something.

"Whatever. Anyhow, our school is all about adaptation and improvisation. I'm sure you'll do as well as I did on my own. You are already a master of your body. If you master your mind and spirit, including your own emotions, you'll be learning powerful mystical arts in no time at all. What was it those oracles said? Know thyself."

"Are you ever going to master YOUR emotions, old man?"

Genma's eyes narrow a bit, but a twinkle of pride remains in them. "Respect your elders, boy!"

"What about sloth and gluttony?" I ask with a mischevious twinkle in my eyes.

"What about them?"

"Well, you mentioned rage, envy, lust, greed, and pride as something auras can be based off of. I figure sloth and gluttony should be on that list too... and I figured YOU would be a natural." I grin widely.

Genma's eyes narrow a bit more, then they widen and he looks contemplative for a moment, and finally he grins. "Ha ha, you may be onto something, boy. I'd better start training!" He grabs an ice-cream scoop, swipes up a huge lump of the stuff, and sticks the whole scoop into his mouth.

I grimace. The slob is at it again. I prepare myself another cone, this time with mint flavor... using a different scoop.

"What all can empowering auras and channeling with them do?" I ask, after a few minutes of eating.

Genma doesn't answer immediately, as he is currently trying to swallow a lump of ice-cream larger than his mouth is wide, and is somehow succeeding... slowly. Did he just dislocate his jaw?

Then he answers.

"Empowering auras has widely varied effects based on the nature of the aura; I've personally seen an aura which give a person razor ki claws which can slice through just about anything, and enhanced perception and agility... based on an animal that shall not be named. I've also seen an aura that turns the user invisible to the naked eye and normal cameras. Note that no two auras can be maintained at the exact same time by most people, although if you had schizophrenia it might be possible. So you won't see any invisible cat people. Err... well, I guess an invisible prowling cat might be a compatible aura."

I look around frantically for the invisible things that are definitely worse than giant frog demons. "Invisible prowling c-c-cats! Don't say that!" I shudder at the idea, and continue to look around.

Genma drops his head onto a flat surface on the ice-cream cart. Thunk. He then slowly raises his head, and repeats. Thunk. Thunk. Thunk.

Eventually I ask, "How would I see one if it was invisible?" I shudder again, but am moderately calm at least.

"Oops. Err... you know what I mean, boy. Anyway, many auras, especially those emotion and element based ones, will strengthen the body when empowered... granting strength, speed, or endurance. However, without aura-based techniques these often aren't worth much more than straight ki based techniques to improve the same things. Anyhow, a great deal of power can be gained by mastering some of the more complex auras, such as those based on animals and human occupations. I'm sure Martial Arts Psychotherapy is perfectly doable if you can master the right aura, boy. Then you can get rid of your damn phobia, son.

"However, as I've said before, changing your aura just changes who or what you are 'being' at the moment. If you can't master that being, you won't master your potential with that aura. To do so, you can learn or create techniques associated with your aura. Now, here's the kicker... most aura-based techniques can only be performed with compatible auras. For example, anger based techniques cannot be performed with a happiness aura, period, and if you were somewhere between truly angry and content, then your anger-based techniques would be proportionately weaker than they could be. Similarly, cat techniques can't be performed with a human aura."

"CAT! WHY DO YOU KEEP BRINGING UP C-C-CATS?"

Genma flinches briefly, then turns an angry glare on his boy. "A true man has no fears, boy! You had damn well better get over it before Nodoka learns about it."

"Who's Nodoka!? And what is this thing with auras about! Are you telling me real life is like one of those Final Fantasy job systems? Samurai one minute, click, click, click, now I'm an Alchemist? Bull shit!"

"Nodoka's your mother! How could you forget? And when did you play Final Fantasy, boy? If you had time to play games, you should have been training!"

I played a few hours of that boring game with a couple kids during my brief year in junior high... my one year of schooling.

My anger fades, replaced with happiness. "I have a mom? She's alive?"  
  
Genma has his hands in the air, about to shout out and continue his tirade, but his anger fades immediately, replaced with guilt. His hands drop. His voice softens. "You... didn't know?"

"I can't remember her. I can't remember her face, pop. You haven't said a thing about her in over nine years!" Tears well up in my eyes, but I hold them back. Real men don't cry.

"I'll... take you to her after we return to Japan. We should be done here before the year is out, likely earlier."

"Ok." I say it softly. I almost can't hear it myself. At most half a year more, then. It will probably be the longest months of my life.

We both pause. Birds twitter. A small boy walks up to us and asked for some ice-cream, then runs away screaming after Genma gives him a sharp glare. The pause continues.

"So what's this about auras?" I ask, pushing away the uncomfortable silence.

"I was getting around to saying that a great deal of strength in auras comes from being flexible with them, just like being able to move from one martial arts form to another in our school of martial arts. To be truly flexible, you need to find or invent useful auras, then create or learn techniques that complement these auras, and finally make them your own by learning how to slip between them at the drop of a hat. Emotion based auras are too volatile for that... or maybe not volatile enough; in any case, it is hard to change your emotional state that easily, voluntarily. I'd recommend animal and profession based auras instead. Elemental auras are probably okay too.

"But I'm not sure what effects that will have on you, boy. I'm a little scared. I learned during that... training accident... that auras aren't something to be messed with arbitrarily, boy. Your aura isn't just an extension of your spirit, in many ways it IS your spirit. To change or twist your aura, you change or twist yourself. If your spirit is flexible, it should snap back like a rubber band when the need is over. But, I want you to be careful. I don't want to hurt you that way... not again.

"I've never mastered the degree of flexibility necessary, son. Heck, I haven't even tried. I can only create a few auras, and cannot switch between them with any degree of speed at all. Nobody in the Masubetsu Kakuto Ryuu has mastered spiritual flexibility; the grandmaster and founder was a creature of his own emotions, which wavered between lechery and anger.

"But, I want you to try. I want you to be a whole martial artist. I want you to bring the true strength of Masubetsu Kakuto Ryuu to both halves of martial arts."

"Me?" I somehow feel a little honored.  
  
Genma nods, solemnly. He is looking at an empty bin in the ice-cream trolley, rather than at me, and his hands are in his lap rather than feeding his face. "I've always wanted you to become a greater man than myself. What more can a father ask for? I might not always follow my own teachings, but often those teachings are still basically right. If I'm a hypocrite, that is my own failing... my own weakness. Don't let yourself use it as an excuse to be weaker than you could be. I want you to be better than me."

Silence reigns again, as I ponder what my father has told me.

He's right, I realize. He's instilled honor in me, when he has little of his own. He teaches, and I learn well... even if he's not completely sure of the method. I know he wants me educated as well as strong, despite the spotty education I've received; we've stopped roaming up to a few months at a time so I could take classes, not that I was given time to complete my homework. There is only one time he went terribly wrong... one time that leaves its scars, shame and guilt on both of us. That is the Neko-ken. That is the 'training accident.'

And, now he is trying to teach me a set of skills potentially more dangerous to others, more dangerous to my own personality than the Neko-ken... based on twisting my own mind and spirit into new shapes in order to fashion different auras. And he's taking small steps. He wants to do it right. But he doesn't even know where to start.

He looks up at me, and I see tears welled up in his eyes, much as they are in my own. No tears have fallen. Real men don't cry. My father sometimes bawls his eyes out, but only as a manipulation, never real tears. Those tears in his eyes now... those are real. He opens his mouth to speak, then closes it and pauses for a bit before opening his mouth once more.

"Ranma, I created two different auras, and two schools of techniques to go along with them. One school, the yama-sen-ken, is based on the loud thief. The other school, the umi-sen-ken, is based on the quiet thief. I created them as an experiment on my theories about the nature of aura. These theories on aura are my own, for the most part, although bits and pieces are borrowed from all over. My experiments were both incredible successes, and up until yesterday, I had them sealed. I sealed the yama-sen-ken because it is too dangerous; it could easily take dozens of human lives, or collapse buildings, by accident. I sealed the umi-sen-ken because the idea of my lecherous master, the grandmaster of our school, learning how to turn invisible was too evil to bear."  
  
"The invisibility technique... is YOURS?" I was incredulous.

He nods, slowly.

"Show me!" I demand.

He grins a little against his tears, then lifts a hand and slowly waves at me as he fades out of sight right in front of me. Wow. A few seconds later, I'm still staring at the chair when I feel a calloused hand on my shoulder. Looking up, I see Genma's smiling face. It looks like he wiped his tears away while invisible.

How convenient.

"Cool. You'll teach me that." It was not a question.

Genma nods. "I plan to." He lifts his hand off my shoulder, then continues. "Later, when we're both ready for you to know it. Ask me again in a year if you feel you are ready for it. I don't like the idea of you turning invisible on me at the moment, especially since last time you disappeared on me, you ran off, got drunk, and got a tattoo on your forehead. Also, at the moment you lack the skill to learn the technique. However, this techniques is something I created on my own. I'm quite sure you'll be able to come up with many auras and techniques on your own, in time."

I nodded. Wait! Shouldn't I be yelling? He insulted my skill. Wow. Somehow my pops is regaining a little of my respect. Who is this person and what did he do with the real Genma Saotome?

Another moment of silence passes ever so slowly. I watch as the last solid bit of mint ice-cream melts into the green sludge in its bin. Am I thinking? I can't remember. A total moment of Zen. Cool; I'll be mastering that aura in no time at all. I'm the best.

Eventually, I speak up again. "What else can aura powers do? Telekinesis? Flight? Mind control? Illusion? You've already mentioned energy blasts. What about healing others? Weather control?" I squint a bit trying to think of categories I haven't yet hit, but come up blank.

"I'm not completely sure, son. I think telekinesis, flight, and illusion are possible, but I've never seen them in use excepting my invisibility technique. Related to flight and transport, it is almost certainly possible to use your aura to breathe underwater, or at least hold your breath for a very long time. I know for certain that it is possible to walk on water, or walk up vertical surfaces, or even on the ceiling, though I never mastered it. I know that a certain degree of mind control is possible... I've been hit with techniques that affect the emotions before. I know you can heal yourself, but I've never seen a martial artist heal another... but it sounds possible... I've seen much stranger things. However, as far as weather control goes... well, you might be able to start a tornado, throw lightning, or raise a fog if the conditions were already right, but I think full scale weather control would require more ki than you'll ever have. Ha. What would you want to control the weather for?"

"I haven't a clue. I'm just getting used to the idea of mystical ki techniques."

"Well, the physical arts are only half of martial arts, and the mystical stuff is the other half. Hmmm. The third half is probably pressure points, but I don't know anything about those."

"Third half?" I ask.

"Did I say something wrong, boy?" Genma looks at me curiously.

I roll my eyes and shrug.

"So, when are you going to teach me? I wanna learn!"

"Weren't you listening, boy! I've already started. You already use ki subconsciously. You've already manifested an aura. And what do you think I've been teaching you for the last hour!"

I think about this for a moment. I've spent nine years of my life learning physical art, and my father never once mentioned something about ki techniques or auras. Also, until today, he's never shown me a technique OR how to manifest an aura for speed and strength. That is quite a rabbit to be hiding under one's hat for nine years.

"Why now? Why only for this last hour, pop? Why didn't you start teaching me years ago?"

Genma sits silent for a moment, then says, "I don't really have a good answer for why I didn't start earlier, son. When I first started training you, you definitely weren't ready. About four years ago you were ready for training, but I felt that I'm not very qualified to teach you... especially after the Neko-ken. I think that for your initial training, we're going to go find ourselves a temple priest willing to help us out.

"Now, as to why I had a sudden change of heart? Well, it happened yesterday, at about the same time I unsealed my forbidden techniques. I fought something inhuman... something against which my fists did no significant or lasting harm, even with my confidence aura. It was raging through the city, chasing someone or something, and harming everyone in its way.

"I found it when I was looking for you, boy. I was scared for you. A real man can be scared for those he loves. It might have attacked you, and nothing in your training could have stopped it. And, after my confidence fled... all I was left with..." Genma pauses for a moment, catching his breath, calming down. "All I had left that could hurt it was the yama-sen-ken. And if I didn't use it, then it would have killed me... and your training would never be completed.

"Yesterday I encountered a -." Genma is interrupted by a shrill scream penetrating through the park.

"DEMON!" More screams float over to Genma and I. I look in the direction of the screams, somewhat dazed, thinking of dreams and giant demon frogs.

"Yeah. One of those," finishes Genma. He grabs and shoves a final scoop of melted ice-cream sludge into his mouth, then stands up. "Well, what are you waiting for, boy! You've gotta protect the weak!"


	3. Taste of Death

Void Contract

Chapter Two: Taste of Death

obsidianfox

Started: June 29, 2004

Last Updated: July 14, 2004

Since time immemorial, it has been the sworn duty of the martial artist to protect mankind from monsters.

-- Genma Saotome

(ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo)

After a quick sprint, Pop and I stumble into the site of the screams. Stumble is definitely the right word; even we, with our excellent balance, have a hard time standing when facing death.

A woman in a white dress with dark locks of hair lies broken in her final rest upon a concrete stair. A child that witnessed a death is overcome by anger. She's blind with tears and hidden fears; she doesn't see the danger.

A creature stands over the body of an attractive woman, who lies upon concrete stairs in the park. A pool of blood surrounds the woman's head, a bloody halo to her angelic face. Near the woman, stunned, crying, staring into the eyes of the creature is a young girl, dressed in a blue kimono. She just stands there, looking at the monster in its eyes; her legs shake, barely visible under her kimono. A half dozen meters away, a man stands near some trees, watching the scene with a look of horror and fear on his face.

I catch, with my breath, my first taste of death.

The woman isn't breathing. She's dead. I'm surprised at how easily my mind accepts this fact. And the girl will die too, if I don't do something about it.

I turn to face, for the first time, the creature that caused all this damage. It sits in a crouching position upon its four clawed legs, as though ready to jump. It is tall and gangly, just a little under my own height even in its current crouching position; it looks a little like an overgrown and underfed dog, with a long and scrawny body resting upon even longer and scrawnier legs. But instead of a dog's snout, it sports a large beak capable of shattering a man's leg. Its hairless skin is a mottled yellow, covered with oozing pustules. Two very long and dangerous looking clawed arms with three joints each grow out of its back.

With my moment of observation over, time snaps back to its normal pace.

"Shiina! Get over here! Get away from that... THING!" shouts the man, surprisingly, in Japanese.

Shiina -- an ominous name. But it doesn't mean she should die young. As the creature raises a clawed, three jointed arm to strike the girl, I take a step to run in.

But Genma is the first to recover. His face hardens. "NOOOO!" he shouts. He charges in and scoops up the girl just as a wicked claw swipes towards her belly. Genma shifts to take the blow for the girl, tucking her under his arms and guarding her back and head. The claw sweeps into him, leaving three gashes across his midsection, tearing open his panda tattoo, and sending both him and the child careening, rolling, and bouncing past me.

Pop bounces and rolls to a stop against a tree. A red stain slowly grows upon his torn gi.

"Pop!" I shout. He doesn't respond, but I see his breathing; it is deep, calm. He's unconscious, but he'll be okay. The weight of a mountain leaves my shoulders. I slip out of our oversized pack, and the weight of that leaves my shoulders too.

I look at the girl. She is pounding at my father, trying to escape his vice-like grip.

"Let me go! I'll kill it! I'm going to kill it! Let me kill that bastard! Let me GO!" she screams, wailing, crying against him, striking him as best she can. Fortunately for pop, her movement and the force of her strikes are restricted by his arms.

The creature's clawed arm, opposite me, drips with the blood of my father.

I hear a growl and a snarl, then realize it is my own as I feel my body drop into a low combat stance, ready to sprint at a moment's notice. I'm angry at this thing which harmed my father, whom I've once again begun to respect. I think, briefly, about the woman it killed, but the permanence of that death hasn't yet reached my heart. I'm shaking, scared, unsure whether I can even hurt this creature, should I even manage to get close enough to it; after all, it just casually knocked my bulky father over twenty meters, and tore into him with clawed arms.

And my father beat me to a pulp a full dozen times this very morning.

It turns its baleful eyes towards me. They are a deep, fiery gold and orange, slitted as a cat's. I glare back at it in return, challenging its stare. Time to charge! What the? My legs betray me. They don't move. I feel my knees shaking.

The creature opens its beak and releases a powerful "SCREEEECH!" Then it turns away from me and begins to approach the man cowering between a few trees. It approaches the man casually, slowly. The man stares the creature in the eyes rather than running... but his legs are shake more than my own.

Gotta... protect... the... weak. I shove that through my head and body as hard as I can, and I feel the locks on my legs give just a little. I push, as hard as I can, away from my current position, but as hard as I try to push my feet still don't leave the ground.

The man whimpers, still staring up at the hideous creature. A wet stain grows on the inside of his pants.

I see the creature raise one of its three-jointed arms, about to strike the man. No! I couldn't prevent the death of that woman before I got here, but nobody is going to die now that I'm here! I continue to struggle to move. I need to move NOW!

Then suddenly, my body lurches into motion: a full sprint towards the creature. I launch a punch into its exposed side, forcing all my weight and strength into the blow. The creature's side caves a little, then it is sent stumbling away from the man and I, coming to a stop as slams into a distant tree.

Good! I can at least knock it around! It doesn't even weigh as much as Oyaji.

"Die! Hideous demon!" I shout my war cry, then sprint after it.

It lifts itself back to its feet then opens its beak to let out another horrid "SCREEEEECH!" Then it leaps to meet me with all six of its claws prepared to strike. The arms growing from its back are in a position where they can strike me if I try to dodge to the side or jump over it.

Yikes!

My heart beats a bit faster. I don't see any openings; those three-jointed arms are longer than I am tall, and cover all angles. Well, perhaps I can bounce off of one of the arms.

No more time! I dodge left and kick my legs out, pushing myself away from its clawed arm.

SLICE! SLAM!

"AAAAAAH!" I yell in agony. Three fiery gashes tear into me, just below my right hip. I fly spinning rapidly through the air like a ballet dancer in an insane, sideways pirouette.

By instinct, I shift my position in the air until I'm spinning head over heal, then land on my feet rolling backwards. After two more somersaults, I come to a stop just in front of a tree large. I look to see the creature sprinting and loping towards me.

A plan forms. I grin. I wait.

As soon as the creature is committed to the charge, I jump into the air to grab the branches above me. Fiery pain lances up my injured leg and I stumble a bit as I jump. Shit! I forgot the injury!

Even as I reach to grab the branches above me, the creature below slams beak-first into the tree behind me. However, one of its arms whip into my left leg, slamming me backwards and downwards, towards the trunk and away from the branches. I feel and hear a sickening crack in the leg that was struck; the femur is broken.

A deep, penetrating pain drowns the fire from my right leg.

My head whips back into the tree and for a few moments I go limp. My body bounces off the tree, and I fall to the ground like a rag doll a few meters away from the creature.

I slowly, forcefully bring myself back to a standing position, favoring my right leg, which has a few painful gashes in it, over my left leg, which is broken.

Actually, the pain in my right leg has already subsided. Well, I heal fast; it must have been a shallower cut than I had thought.

I watch the creature slowly lift itself off the ground, then shake its head as if to clear it. A motion to step forward is halted by lancing pain. The demon turns towards me and looks me in the eyes; for a brief moment, I see something powerful flash, deep in those slitted golden flames. Then my right leg gives out; I land on my butt, quaking in fear.

It begins to approach me casually, slowly, as it had approached the man cowering in the wood. Those fiery, slitted golden orbs hold my gaze. I try look around, but I can't look away. My heart beats rapidly. My arms quiver and fail when I try to push myself away.

I can only watch as those fiery orbs get closer, and one of its arms raise to strike me.

Suddenly I realize: it's the eyes! They have some sort of power. I try to close my eyes, but I don't even have time to blink as the claw lashes down. It strikes me cleanly across the throat with its clawed hand. I feel myself twisting, flying through the air headfirst towards a tree.

The world goes dark.

(ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo)

What feels to me like moments later, I open my eyes, and raise a hand to my throat. I don't feel any injury; perhaps the creature didn't actually use its claws. My body is tired; I feel worn out, but I stand up carefully and put a little weight on my left leg. My ki seems to have worked its magic again, and fixed my bone.

In the distance, I hear a shout; it's my father's voice. Following that, I hear another horrid screech, muted by the distance. I begin running towards it.

"Pop!" I shout as I run into the clearing. I spend a brief moment taking in the scene.

My father is standing a few meters in front of the creature, looking it right in the eyes, standing still. He is bleeding from gashes in his belly, chest, and right leg; his right arm hangs limp, broken.

The creature approaches my pop slowly. One of the creature's arms is missing, leaving only the first joint as a stump. A half dozen small knives penetrate the thing's side, slowly releasing a sickly yellow ichor. It limps a little as it moves.

Nearby, a girl slumps against a tree, bleeding from her forehead, holding an obviously broken arm, unconscious, and breathing raggedly. The man I saved earlier is broken against another tree; there is a large gash in his chest, and a tree limb penetrating his belly. He is no longer breathing.

I sprint to save my father, and again punch the thing in the side, again sending it flying and bouncing away. It slams into a distant tree. My father still stands, his eyes following the creature, his legs still shaking.

"Pop! Snap out of it! Don't look the thing in the eyes!" I slap my father, hard, knocking him to the ground.

Genma looks dazed for a moment, then looks at me. Suddenly he rushes to me, sweeping me into a huge hug with his uninjured arm; tears fill his eyes. "Boy! You're alive! Kami, thank you!"

"SCREEEECH!" The creature wails again as it lifts itself back to its feet.

"No time for that, pop! We've gotta kill that thing before it kills again! Don't look into its eyes!"

Genma's eyes widen momentarily. "So that's it," he says. He turns towards the creature, and takes a low stance. "Then look at its legs, boy!"

The creature takes a look at Genma and Ranma, then takes a few steps towards them, limping. It shakes itself briefly, as a wet dog entering a warm, dry home. "SCREEEECH!" The creature turns its body, takes one last glance back at the two martial artists, then starts loping away.

"Argh." I snarl and start chasing the beast. It is going to DIE! With a powerful screech, the creature begins to move faster. And faster. I push myself to keep up.

"Boy! Wait!" I hear pop shout from behind me. "Not again!" I hear, distant. Then I'm gone.

(ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo)

Huff. Huff. Exhausted, I pause briefly to catch my breath, and look around to see if I can find the beast. From my vantage point, high in a tree, I see only the surrounding forest. Beams of sunlight penetrate the canopy above; the shadows below wave and wander as a slight gust shakes the trees.

A streak of yellow blasts from the shadows, through the sunlight, and back to the shadows.

There! I leap to another tree, following at top speed. As soon my feet touch the branch, I shove off again and fly to yet another tree. Tree to tree to tree... even so, I can track it. Barely. As I land, I catch another glimpse; mottled yellow tail and legs disappear into yet another shadow. I leap to follow.

I had tried to chase it on the ground, but that was a lost cause; the thing kept disappearing into shadow and moving deeper into the forested park. It had even ambushed me earlier; I had escaped by leaping into the trees. Without my father, I can't defeat this thing if it ambushes me... even if it is missing one arm. I'm not stupid; one look into its eyes, and I'd be toast.

My father hadn't followed... maybe due to his leg injury, or because he needed to help that girl. Whatever. It doesn't matter; this thing is MINE. It killed someone I was supposed to protect.

And I CAN defeat it if I engage it on my own terms. It is injured and missing an arm; that leaves a full side open. The creature won't stand a chance. But first I need to catch it. Thus I follow... tree to tree.

Leap. Leap. Leap. I dodge under, over, through foliage and branches in my way; my body flies horizontally as I fly between two narrowly spaced branches. I twist and leap off yet another branch...

And into sunlight. Searing white light surrounds me as I leave the wooded park behind. A moment later, my eyes, used to the shadows, adjust to the glare of noon-day Hong Kong. And I'm falling. Below me is a busy highway, moving slowly in the lunchtime traffic jam; cars and trucks honk madly.

Sitting on one of the larger trucks in the distance is the demon. It stares at me, its head quirked to one side. I faintly hear it release a screech.

Below it, I see the driver's white, muscled fist reach out of the truck window, shake madly, and twist to flip off the creature on the his roof.

I focus my attention below me. Just a little adjustment and... THUNK! I land on the roof of a passing car, putting a deep dent in its roof. I immediately fall to my butt as the car continues to move forward below me, and I reach out and grab a hand over the front windshield of the car to prevent myself from rolling off.

Briefly, I look up to see that the forest ended in a plateau in order to allow the highway to be cut through it. That is why I was able to fall so far.

I bend down and look into the driver's window. The woman at the wheel looks shocked white, scared. "Gomen!" I shout at her, looking into the back and passenger seats. Thank kami! Nobody else was in the car, and nobody was hurt by that dent. As I turn to leap away, I hear her shout something angrily in Chinese.

I take off to a nearby car roof, chasing after the creature. For a moment, it sits and watches me, then takes off to the roof of another car. The chase is on.

Briefly I land on the truck the creature had been resting on, and glance inside to see the man that dared flip his birdie at a demon.

He was a white man, well toned, with a shock of dirty blonde hair and a stubble shadow. He glances at me, grabs his broadcast radio and begins to speak into it. In English. " Did you ever wonder where the excitement went on your lunch break. Well, for Jack Burton the excitement never ends. Jack Burton has yet another story for you... a story of an American truck driver stuck for some godforsaken reason in Hong Kong. Let me tell you; life ain't easy. Like that ancient Chinese curse, they say... ".

I shake my head, having caught only a little of it, then leap after the creature.

"Chikuso!" I shout. The creature has gained distance while I looked at the truck driver. I sprint after it, jumping from the roofs and hoods of trucks and cars. On occasion, I see spots of yellow ichor staining the cars below me; the thing is bleeding. Even so, the creature has a huge lead...

Remembering what pop told me this morning, I try to focus my mind on pushing ki into my legs in order to gain speed, but I don't feel a thing and I don't get a bit faster.

So I continue to sprint after the creature as best I can, putting small dents in cars and leaving dozens of drivers shaking their fists at me.

Throwing knives, like those stuck in the creature's side would be SO nice at a time like this. Or, better, energy blasts! I briefly entertain the thought of shooting a huge yellow bolts of ki energy from my fists, blasting the creature around like a character from that Mortal Kombat game I played once in middle school. Some little kid beat the crap out of my character by shooting little yellow bolts while I madly mashed buttons. It was quite embarrassing; I blush just remembering it. Kapow! A huge bolt flies towards the creature, if only in my mind.

My brief fantasy somehow ends darkly as the creature bounces away to the safety of yet another car. I imagine the car it was just standing upon getting blown to smithereens, along with everyone inside.

Darn! I can't even catch this thing in my fantasies?

What am I thinking? I shake my head to clear it from the lightheadedness due to running too hard, too far, too fast, too long. I need to focus! I clear thought from my mind, and focus on my breathing, forcing it from ragged and strained to a more even pace.

The demon ahead of me takes this opportunity to gain a little distance.

New thoughts grow to fill the void that briefly was my mind. I WILL catch it. I will KILL it.

Ever so slowly, I begin to reclaim lost distance on the beaked demon.

(ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo)

"Damn you!" I gasp out. "Why couldn't you just stand still and die!?"

The creature doesn't answer... it doesn't even release one of its horrid screeches. Not that there is a good answer for such a ridiculous question.

My legs and chest burn from exertion. I had chased the creature through parks on the outskirts of Hong Kong, then along the highway from car to car, then through the alleys and across the rooftops of Hong Kong inner city.

Where was that thing going? Did it have a goal, or was it just running away from me? I banish these thoughts; for now, my job is to destroy the demon.

We stand on the same roof now. I've caught up with it.

The beast sits there, on the other side of the roof, watching me carefully. Its chest heaves up and down, and it carries itself with a limp upon its rear right paw. I carefully avoid looking it in the eyes, but from what I can see, It doesn't look to be doing any better than I am. Another thick splash of yellow ichor hits the ground. In fact, it's probably doing worse than I; whatever that fluid is, this creature has lost a lot of it, while I'm not bleeding at all.

A gust of wind whips through. A discarded burger wrapper bounces and skitters across the roof between us. Showdown.

I grin and charge the beast. A war cry dies on the tip of my tongue; that breath is better used in the charge. Out of the corner of my eyes, which are busy watching its feet, I vaguely see the thing's remaining clawed arm raise to strike me. My only response is a smirk.

With a brief step, I dodge to the creature's vulnerable side, and lash out with a fist.

SLAM!

The creature goes flying off the rooftop, uncontrolled in its fall. Heh. I give myself a little smirk. The cement below should kill it, or leave it stunned long enough for me to finish the job. I step forward to look over the edge, and feel a little resistance against moving my shoe. I look down. Ewww! I had stepped in a puddle of that yellow ichor. I peel my foot away from the sticky puddle, then look over the edge.

The creature falls, initially flailing through the air until it slams through the window of a building a few dozen stories down. I frown; the building won't hurt it the way cement would have. I briefly remember being smashed through a few buildings by my own oyaji; it never hurts much unless I hit the plumbing or a major support beam.

I jump after it.

I grin stupidly as the rush of air surrounds me and my stomach moves towards my throat; I've always loved free-fall. After a few seconds I prepare myself for the landing, zoom through the already shattered window, then roll to a quick stop.

Even so, the landing hurt. I stand up on sore legs, and hear my back pop a half dozen times. I grimace a little, and roll my head once, hearing a few more popping noises, and then take stock of my surroundings.

The creature lies near me, currently not moving at all in a shallow crater of its own making.

Several Chinese men in expensive looking suits stare at me with stupid looks on their faces, although an older man just has a scowl. Glass and paper is scattered about the room; the glass from the broken window, the paper due to the wind.

A fat white man with a mop of brown hair lies in a growing pool of blood at a desk with a pen in his hand. A paper flutters from the desk due to a sudden gust of wind, landing between the demon and me.

Shoot! I didn't kill anyone, did I? My face turns white at the thought. Then I notice something very important; all these men in business suits are armed with pistols. I glance back at the man on the desk, and see that no shards of glass are near him.

Ah! Something inside me clicks.

Uh-oh! Something inside me panics.

I glance back to the other men, and hear the older man shout something in Chinese. Those pistols are pointed at me.

Then I hear the creature shift, and see several of those pistols swing to target it.

An idea forms. Heh... maybe they can help me kill it! I take a few sudden steps towards the creature; shots ring out, but I don't feel anything hit me. Then I dive behind the slowly standing demon so it is between me and those pistols.

THUD! THUD! THUD THUD THUD! Bullet after bullet hits and penetrates the creature's side, causing it to drop back towards the ground. I push it back up as a shield. THUD THUD THUD! The sudden movement spurs another firing frenzy, and bullets continue to strike the creature.

Fortunately, none of the bullets can penetrate all the way through the creature.

My shoulder gets covered with that icky yellow ichor from the creature's knife wounds. Ah! Throwing knives! I pull five knives from the thing's side, and look at them. They might be useful if I can wash them, I decide, but at the moment they are covered in sticky yellow ichor.

My mind wanders a bit. Is my aim still decent? I haven't thrown a knife in over five years, and I never did get very good with them. I recall Pop yelling at me as yet another knife bounces off a target after striking with the hilt, "You gotta do better than that, boy!"

Then the I hear the hail of bullets stop, and hear someone shouting in Chinese. I take a peek over the edge of the creature... and see right up the business end of a really BIG pistol. The older man is carrying it. Eep! I blink. The old man again shouts something to me in Chinese, but I don't catch a word... yet whatever he commanded, I'll be shot if I don't do it.

Well, time for the Saotome final maneuver. I duck back under the demon, then shove it upwards and towards the old man and his companions. The demon flies limply through the air, knocking the men backwards; several gunshots ring out, but the bullets hit the ground and ceiling. Another plane of glass crashes down behind me.

I jump backwards out the window.

Ah! Back to free fall. It isn't nearly as scary as those guns... at least not for me.

I reach up to free some piece of paper that got stuck to my foot. It peels away from my sticky shoe; a few spots of yellow ichor dot it. I toss the stray paper to the wind. I look about and see I have plenty of time before landing. Ah, good! A parked car. That will soften the landing. Now I prepare.

Then I strike a parked car and roll off of it as I land. The car blares a loud siren at me, seemingly upset with having its roof caved in.

My body groans in protest once again as I straighten myself.

I glance up briefly, and see the old man scowling down at me, his gun held casually at his side... although it is hard to tell any real features from this distance. The man doesn't try to shoot me.

That man is probably a murderer.

I think about those guns. Well... it is the law's place to handle him. My job is done.

I smirk and flip my middle finger at the man as I saw that American truck driver, Jack Burton, do to the demon. Then I turn to stagger and run away as fast as my protesting body can carry me.

(ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo)

A stray sheet of paper whips through the air, carried by wind and bad karma. A car rushes underneath it, and it whips back into the air briefly, then finally settles into its final resting place.

The boy blinks a few times to clear his vision, then realizes what is blocking it. He growls and tears the sheet of paper out of his hair, wincing briefly as several of his hairs go with it, stuck via some sort of yellow glue. The boy reaches up and adjusts his randomly checkered yellow bandanna, then takes a moment to read the document.

He frowns.

The boy can't read Chinese, and those couple lines of roman characters and numbers don't seem to have any meaning.

HONK! HONK!

The boy doesn't hear the honking behind him.

SLAM!

The boy is face first in the road, still holding the paper at arm's length in front of him. The eighteen-wheeler screeches to a halt a little further down the road, and a white truck driver with good muscle tone, a shock of dirty blonde hair, and a stubble shadow steps out of the truck, running towards the flattened boy. " Oh my god! Are you hurt? What the hell am I asking? Of course he's hurt! He's probably dead. Who could surv... " He pauses as the boy slowly lifts himself off the ground. " Oh yeah. Last time this happened the man tried to kill me and marry my girl. Interesting days. Perhaps I should go help him up? Or should I run like hell? "

The boy stands up, and dusts off his yellow shirt. Then he looks at the man who is wavering between concerned and scared. He waves the man off and growls, " Get out of here! And watch where you're driving, next time! "

The man almost scampers back to the truck, mumbling something about insane Chinese martial artists.

The boy takes one last look at the paper. He raises his arms and face to the skies, and he shouts, "RAAANMAAA! This is ALL YOUR FAULT!"

HONK! HONK!

SLAM!


	4. Hormones Stormin'

Void Contract

Chapter Three: Hormones Stormin'

obsidianfox

Started: July 03, 2004

Last Updated: July 29, 2004

(ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo)

I kick a chunk of broken concrete and watch as it skitters across the ground. It bounces, rolls, and changes direction a bit to veer off into a nearby alley.

"Damn murderers," I mutter. I begin to follow the piece of concrete, intent on kicking it again.

A series of images flash through my head. A man lies facedown in a pool of blood with a pen in his hand. A man is broken, impaled upon a tree, shirt stained with blood and pants soaked in urine. A woman of angelic features smiles peacefully at the sky, lying on the concrete, white kimono stained red, and head surrounded by a growing halo of her own blood. A demon lies unmoving in its own crater; bullet wounds paint its side, and yellow ichor stains the ground.

Death. Death. Death. And Good Riddance... to that demon.

I reach the torn concrete block and look down at it for a moment. I glance up again when I feel a foreign presence. Four toughs surround me; two in front, two behind. Knives and metal pipes are evident. For whatever reason, they seem a bit hesitant to approach me, despite my roughed up clothing.

I grin wickedly at those ahead of me, and say, "I've had a REALLY bad morning, and I'd love to share it with you. I'll feel better; you'll feel worse. Bring it on!"

To my disappointment, all four of them fade back into the shadows, leaving me to my thoughts and a lonely chunk of concrete.

Those deaths... I worry, about those deaths, about my reaction to them... the lack thereof. I feel nothing except that, somewhere deep down, the feeling that I should be feeling something. Anything. But what should I be feeling? Sadness? I didn't know them. Guilt? I didn't murder them; I didn't even witness any of the deaths. I had tried my best to save a man, and failed, but I feel nothing about that. Why not?

Why don't I feel anything, dammit! I kick the block of concrete again, and again I begin following it.

My thoughts return to the living. An old man stands with a scowling face, arm extended; I shudder as I recall a rather intimate view of the shadowed barrel of a large caliber pistol. Oyaji stands, arm limp, stupidly staring down a demon that paralyzes with its baleful glare. A girl slumps against a tree, bleeding on her torn blue kimono, arm broken.

My heart beats a little faster. Did she survive? For some reason, the idea of her death scares me. Maybe it's because she's my age, or just a little younger. I find myself walking a bit faster. Maybe it's because she's cute. I halt. I feel my heart beat even faster and a slight blush rise to my cheeks. Then I shove those feelings away. No. That couldn't be it. I begin to run, quickly passing the chunk of concrete I'd kicked earlier.

Maybe it's because I know her name: Shiina.

Briefly, I close my eyes and pray for the health and safety of Oyaji and Shiina.

Bump.

The kami hates me. I know it.

As my face plants itself into something soft, I begin to fall forward... along with the woman I ran into. However, being the uber martial artist that I am, I almost instantly recover my balance and secure the woman so she doesn't fall.

But the movement still leaves me with my face planted in her chest and an arm about her waist. Mmmm. Whatever perfume she's wearing smells nice. Wait! What am I doing? I back away as fast as I can, and look at the woman I almost tackled. A huge blush rises to my cheeks, and I suppress it as best I can.

She is wearing glasses on a pair of rather pointy looking ears, and has long dark hair. For a moment, I vaguely feel I recognize the face. Then I notice a few other things: she is a head taller than I am, she carries herself like a martial artist, and she currently is not looking at me; instead, she's staring at a new splash of yellow ichor that adorns her jacket.

I glance down at my shoulder. Yep. It's still covered in the goo.

"Errr..." I grunt intelligently.

She turns a glare towards me, then snaps something out at me in Chinese.

Aha! Now I recognize that face. I was upside down, looking into her car... to make sure nobody was injured by a huge dent I left... oh, shit.

Memory flash: right about now, fourty people are coming over a hill with pitchforks; property damage is on the rise yet again; it is time for Pop and me to leave.

But Pop is nowhere in sight. I return my eyes to those of the woman.

Surprisingly, however, her glare has softened. "You speak Japanese?" she asks.

I relax, just a little. Then I notice a mischevious little smile appear on her face. The tension comes back, twice as strong. Hesitantly, I nod my head. "About the car and the jacket... err... I was chasing a demon." Yeah, right, like she'll believe that.

However, her little smile widens into a full grin. "Then you're that ninja! I thought I recognized you." She frowns at me momentarily, then adds, "You sure did a number on my car. Hmmm... But I'll forgive you if you can give me a good, marketable story. Come with me!" She grabs my arm and starts dragging me behind her. "I am Li Ling Ling of Yougekisha." She looks at me, expectantly.

I gulp... I don't want to lie, but I'd rather not have my name easily traced by those goons with guns. I suppress a brief thought that I'm just planning to escape property damage bills. "I'm Ranma. Umm... I'd rather not have my name put in a story or traced too easily."

Ling Ling frowns for a moment, then smiles softly. She bends down bringing her face a bit nearer mine. "I guess not. I can keep your name a secret if you need it." Then she lifts herself back up and grins widely at the sky before turning her grin on me. "But it'll cost you extra. Your story had better be very good!"

"Well, then, I'm Ranma Saotome of the Masubetsu Kakuto Ryuu," I say, grinning proudly. "And I can give you a story."

"Ah! Great!" responds Ling Ling.

"But, I would like to get cleaned up a bit," I add, a bit sheepishly. Then my stomach growls. "And I'd like lunch, if possible."

Li Ling Ling just smiles as sunlight flashes off her glasses.

(ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo)

I lift another large sandwich off the tray in front of me, and rip into it with a huge bite before continuing my story. "Amm fthn ow kumped afper ip."

Ling Ling flinches as a small piece of half-eaten bread strikes her in the face, express trajectory from my mouth. "Chew and swallow before you speak!" she snaps. "And I'm not in a hurry. You don't need to eat so fast! And how can you eat so much?" She glances mournfully at her purse.

"Fowwy!" I apologize, still chewing. It won't do to haver her angry at me; she might not buy me another sandwich. Or two. Or maybe three. After all, I didn't eat that much ice cream this morning.

She fixes me with a glare as she makes a show of wiping the piece of bread off her cheek. Then she grabs and takes another small bite of her sandwich. Her glare never wavers.

How can she eat so little? She's a martial artist, and yet she's on her first sandwich while I'm on my fourth. That can't be healthy. "A martial artist lives by his body, boy! And the body lives by the stomach!" I vaguely remember Oyaji barking at me when I was far younger. That was a little while before he started trying to steal my meals as speed training. His platitudes have never changed.

Of course, it didn't take long on the road before I was eating whatever I could, whenever I had an opportunity; it had always been, and still is, an adventure discovering where our next meal is coming from.

Thus a free meal like Ling Ling offered me is too good to pass up. I grin at her from behind my fourth sandwich.

Somehow, Pop always pulls through on matters of stomach... and even when he doesn't, there is usually that huge supply of rice and vitamins we carry in our packs. We don't go hungry too often, but... ugh. Sometimes I try to capture meat for the meal, but I learned long ago that capturing a bunny, squirrel, fish, or fowl with my bare hands is not an easy task, although pop or I do manage the task several times each week.

I lift one of the clean knives and look at my reflection in the metal... maybe these will make it easier? Pop and I have never carried weapons about, though we've trained with them at some of the dojos to which we've been. I'll need a few days more practice with throwing knives to get good at them, though, since it has been a while. Heh. I'll bet ki blasts could take a bunny out, and that invisibility should make it a lot easier. Maybe I should just learn those instead.

My thoughts return to my meal as I swallow the huge bite, and immediately engorge another.

A quick glance shows Ling Ling's eyebrow twitching violently. Uh oh! I've seen that before, lots of times. It usually happens when Pop or I am talking to someone, and nothing good ever comes of it.

But I'm not talking at the moment, I think, still chewing. Maybe that's the problem. Perhaps I should get back to the story.

Ling Ling had already given me a worn white t-shirt to replace the gooey gi I was wearing earlier. I took an opportunity to wash my face and hands. I had also washed the knives off as best I could with soap and water, but the yellow goo is a very strong glue and I was only able to clean two of them entirely. Heck, two of the knives were stuck together like siamese twins at the hip. When I tried to pull those apart, the knives bent, but the glue held stronger than ever.

Ling Ling had seen this and mumbled something about patents, chemical analysis, brazing, and glue factories with a weird gleam in her eyes that looked oddly like the Hong Kong yuan sign.

My only thought had been that the stuff will be impossible to get out of my gi.

I finish chewing and swallow yet another overly large chunk of sandwich.

"Anyways, as I was saying, I jumped after the beast," I clarify. "It crashed a party in a building across the street."

"Crashed a party?" Ling Ling asks.

"Yep. A bunch of goons with guns, and an old man with a scowling face, were standing in the room. I think they were in a bit of shock cuz' the window broke and a big beast fell in. Half of them were pointing guns at the thing, and most of the rest looked confused as hell.

"They had apparently just shot someone too, cuz' the guy was dead at his desk and the pool of blood was still growing. At first I thought a shard of glass got him, but none of it was near the guy. I'm thinkin' some goon with a twitchy finger probably shot the guy when the glass broke."

Li Ling Ling looks down at me. I catch a bit of a frown on her face as she says, "You seem pretty casual about death, especially for one so young."

I sigh, and my shoulders droop a bit. "I've been thinkin' about that too. I think maybe it's the adrenaline. They're dead, and I need to save my own life. Pop always tells me that it's a martial artist's job to protect the weak, but I can't be everywhere at once. I can only protect the people near me."

"Of course."

"But, in lots of my fights, the people near me are in danger too. The frog demon could make things explode, and this one could break a person with a flick of its wrist. Some of the other martial artists I've fought throw knives and things around in ways that could hurt others if I'm not real careful where I dodge to. If the people near me are in danger, and I can't protect the people not near me, who can I protect?" I pause for a moment. "Maybe that's why Pop sealed his techniques. He's all big on protectin' the weak, but he says he could kill people too easy on accident."

I fall silent to think about that, and for several minutes, silence reigns. I don't even take a bite from my sandwich.

"Ranma," Ling Ling starts softly, "If you are fighting something or someone that kills people, then you need to be a warrior, not just a martial artist. As a warrior, you kill your enemies and you accept the loss of innocent lives and allies that are beyond your ability to control. Just remember to put aside the warrior and honor the dead when the task is finished, or you'll become the monster you hunt."

I look up at Ling Ling's bespectacled face, and think about this for a few moments. "Just put the warrior aside?" I ask, softly.

Ling Ling nods. "Life moves on. Anyhow, you mentioned a frog demon?"

"Heh. Oops. I think that was just a dream."

"Oh. Well, demons don't exist outside of dreams of course, but maybe it'd be a good story. Can you tell me about it?" She pauses for a moment, then adds, almost to herself, "No. Nevermind. A frog alien was already used in a competitor's tabloid this morning, so a frog demon wouldn't sell." Then she speaks up again. "Well, tell me more about the animal you fought."

I feel my eyebrow twitching. Demons don't exist, eh? Then I calm down a bit. That thing ain't like any animal I've ever seen or heard of, but maybe it's some sort of genetic experiment. But, Pop said it's a demon. Well... whatever. I guess it don't matter.

"Yeah. Anyhow, after I jumped in after it some people started aiming guns at me. I kinda just stood there, stupidly." I grimace. "I mean, nobody's ever pointed a gun at me before, and there's about a dozen guys pointin' them at me now, and a little bit later the demon starts standing up. When they look at the demon, I jump behind it. The sudden movement has them shooting the demon up, while I use it as a shield.

"They just kept shootin' until it drops, so I prop it back up since it's my shield, and they're shootin' again. Heh. They probably thought it was moving on its own. When they stop, the scowling guy is pointing a gun at my head. I didn't notice him walkin' up to me, but you can't blame me with my ears ringin' and all. So, I throw the creature's body at the goons and take off out the window. Then I'm wondering through the streets and here I am. Is that good enough for ya? I really need ta' get back to Pop."

Li Ling Ling tucks a small notebook and pen back into her purse then says, "I guess so, but if it doesn't sell well enough, then you'll owe me another one, Ranma Saotome of the Masubetsu Kakuto Ryuu."

"Hey! It ain't like I get attacked by demons every day or something."

"You said you left your father at the park, along with an unconcious girl and two bodies. If your father is smart at all, and he didn't lose too much blood to make that call, then he got the police and ambulances for the girl and himself. The police will wish to ask him about these events. If you get in contact with the police, you'll be able to figure out where he is at the moment. That's my advice, anyways. Later, young warrior."

She grins at me, then leaves.

I snarf down what's left on my plate. More would have been nice, but four was enough. I stand for a moment and consider where to go. The park. After all, Pop isn't smart at all.

(ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo)

A few hours of leaping from building to building, sprinting along power lines, and leaping from tree to tree, bring me huffing and puffing to the place I'd last seen Pop.

I pause a few moments to catch my breath before looking around. The midafternoon sun shines through the trees and elongates the shadows. Sitting on a wooden bench is a broad man, with features shadowed to a profile by the bright yellow orb slightly above and behind him.

"Pop?" I ask tentatively, before approaching.

"No," says the man in heavily accented Japanese. He stands up as I approach, and I catch the muted scent of tobacco. The man is tall and broad, but he wears a business suit over a well-toned frame, and has a full head of hair. Nope; Definitely not Pop.

"You haven't seen any tall, fat, bald fools with a gi and glasses around here, have you?" I ask as I turn to look for Pop a bit more.

"Yes, indeed I have. Are you Ranma Saotome?" asks the man. When I nod, he whips out a cigarette, lights it, and continues after pulling a drag. "I'm here to pick you up. Your father refused rather violently to leave until we agreed to leave a man here to pick you up. Thanks a lot for wasting half my day," he adds sarcastically.

"You're welcome," I respond with a smirk, then I snarl, "Now where's Pop?! He didn't do nuthin' to go to jail for! We saved that girl!"

"Other than resisting arrest?" snarls the man in return. "He hurt an officer! He's lucky we aren't holding it against him!"

"Shut up! Pop would never hit an officer, unless the officer hit him first! We don't pick on the weak! Besides, my old man always told me to never fight outside self defense and honorable challenge!"

The man's eyes darken a bit, then he chuckles. The man takes another large drag from the cigarette and returns to a somewhat calmer state. "You shouldn't go around calling officers weak unless you are looking for those challenges. You're right, though. Your father just resisted getting pushed into the car while yelling 'bout you coming back here, and he fell on Officer Jun Dee. Squashed her good.

"Right now your father is in a hospital, getting some major quilting work on his body. When we arrested him, his bloody gi was the only thing holding his intestines in. I'd say your father has a lot of guts to be standing with those wounds," he laughs. "I'd like to take you for questioning, then to see your father. Is this okay with you?".

"I guess. You aren't charging Pop or I for anything, are you?"

"Not yet," he responds casually.

I feel a surge of anger. My eyes darken and I snarl, "Whaddya mean, 'not yet'!? We haven't hurt anyone! The demon did it!"

"Demon?" asks the man as he raises an eyebrow. His mouth twitches into a smirk.

"Well, some sort of creature!" I shout, still angry.

The man looks at me sternly, then calmly replies, "We don't know the whole story yet; the girl is still unconcious. However, we do know about the creature, as it left an arm here. You aren't likely to be charged for anything. Are you ready to come with me?"  
  
I nod assent, and he begins leading me to his rather beat up police car.

"By the way, my name is Officer Kong," he says we enter the vehicle. "I've been investigating a series of similar attacks."

Then we are off.

(ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo)

Several officers escort me to a sterile room with flaky puke-green paint, a few uncomfortable metal chairs, a long table, a large mirror, and a small security camera in one corner. The room was obviously designed to instill discomfort in the interviewee, and if those movies are right then observers could watch from behind the mirror. I hear the low thrum of air conditioning and the echoing Mandarin babble of the officers.

The ride with Officer Kong was rather uneventful. The man seemed content with driving and smoking and listening to some awful Korean pop on the radio. After a few failed attempts to start a conversation, I settled back and zoned out to preserve my sanity from the music. Upon entering the station, Kong was stopped by a few other officers on the way into the station, leaving me with the few officers that escorted me to this room.

"Any of you speak Japanese?" I ask hopefully.

"Speak little. Please, you sit chair," says one officer as he points to one of the uncomfortable looking chairs.

I eye the thing warily; I've slept on surfaces less comfortable, but the chair has arms that would restrict my movement. "I think I'll stand," I reply.

"Sit!" demands the officer. Another of the officers gives me a light shove from behind. Rather than resisting, I go ahead and sit down. Clink! The officer that spoke expertly slaps a pair of handcuffs about my wrists.

"Hey! Whatd'ya' do that for?" I snarl. With a quick motion of my wrists, the chain joining the cuffs snaps. The officer that cuffed me goes livid and the other two step back in surprise and shock. I take a moment to casually peel the cuffs off my wrists with two spare fingers, warping them as though they were flimsy and flexible.

The livid officer falls back a few steps in surprise, growls something in Chinese, then draws a small handgun and aims it at me. I smirk at him, confident that a single officer with a gun, or even three, can't take me down; I also plan a quick escape from this chair. As I eye the table in front of me, I'm curious as to whether it can block bullets. However, I make no sudden movements.

"I'm not some sorta' dangerous criminal! Get someone in here who knows Japanese so I can get this damn thing finished and get back to my pop," I demand.

At this moment the door opens and Officer Kong steps through, followed closely by another officer, an attractive and athletic woman with cerulean eyes and a long straight black ponytail reaching her ankles. The woman's left arm is in a sling, marking her as the woman my father hurt earlier. Officer Kong says a few words to her in Chinese while sweeping an arm in my direction, and she bows slightly towards me. I see the other officers in the room calm down a bit and back away.

Then he speaks to me, "Ranma, this is Officer Jun Dee. She's my partner in... um... crime. Yeah. She doesn't speak Japanese, but she does know English."

" Hello. My name is Mr. Johnson. It is nice to meet you, Mr. Smith, " I say, grinning, belting out one of those few phrases I actually recall with absolute confidence. I return a slight bow to the woman then stand up to see her holding in a giggle.

"Perhaps you should practice your English a bit more," chuckles Officer Kong.

I scowl in response. How dare he insult my English! I know for a fact I spoke perfectly. Now, if only I could remember what it meant...

Then Officer Jun Dee's sky blue eyes attract my own, and I see her look my body down and up before meeting my eyes; I feel a mild body-blush in response. " It is nice to meet you, too, " she says. She gives me a warm, satisfied smile and I see a familiar glint in her eyes... a hungry, predatory glint... one I usually see when my Pop is looking at a morsel of food just moments before attacking it. Somehow I feel I'm the piece of meat. But, it isn't an entirely bad feeling... a little embarrassing, but also a little flattering. I give her a smirk in return, although I feel the corners of my mouth turn upwards in a genuine, but hidden, smile. Is this what girls feel like when I look at them? I wonder.

Thoughts of food and meat reach my stomach and it responds by growling, loudly.

Officer Jun Dee laughs heartily, and Officer Kong chuckles again. "We'll get you a little something to eat," he says in his thickly accented Japanese. After a few words from him in Chinese, Jun Dee and the other officers leave.

Officer Kong sits down in the seat opposite me, sets a small recorder on the table between us, and says, "I'm Officer Kong. I know we've already met, but could you say your name for the record?"

"Umm... sure. I'm Ranma Saotome of the Masubetsu Kakuto Ryuu. I'm the best," I say proudly. However, something in my mind bangs me on the head and forces me to add, "... of my generation."

Perhaps Pop's lesson in humility this morning is sinking in. One half trained and two halves to go...

"Ranma, could you describe the creature you saw earlier today? ..." asks Officer Kong as the first question of a long, boring, and rather professional question and answer session. It was interrupted only when Jun Dee returned with a coke and a bowl of udon the twice size of my head. I devoured the food greedily and completely within a few seconds.

" Thank you, " I said, my smile directed at Officer Jun Dee.

" You're welcome, " she replied, although her own face carried a frown.

Heh. I do know this level of English.

I answered the Officer's questions honestly. Other than a few breaks when the officer received a call, he grilled me hard and efficiently. He seemed particularly interested in where the chase was leading, but I was unable to describe much more than a blinding chase and the final building.

After Officer Kong managed to extract everything and more than I had given to Li Ling Ling earlier, plus a little information on Li Ling Ling herself, he called in a young artist. After a long and painful session of slowly translated questions and answers, the artist rendered aproximate images for both the old scowling goon and the creature.

It disturbed me for a moment that the hellbeast's image raised no brows. Are such things so common that they raise no fuss? I suppressed the thought before it shattered my currently fragile world-view.

"Well, Ranma, thank you for your cooperation. We're not going to charge you for the property damage, or pursue charges against your father. We'll pay the hospital bills for your father and the girl," concludes Officer Kong.

"How are they doing?" I ask.

"They'll heal. I'll take you to visit them soon. For the moment, look here," he says as he and Jun Dee expertly flip on a pair of shades. He points to the top of a silver pen he pulled from his jacket. He's right. It is interesting looking. But, what is he trying to show me? I glance to him in question, and blink when it unexpectedly flashes red.

Hey! I'm NOT camera-shy. Just, who expects a pen to double as a camera? I gaze at the two of them in confusion.

Officer Kong confers in Chinese with Officer Jun Dee for a moment, then the man tells me, "Ranma, your father was injured while saving a young girl who fell from a high tree. However, he landed awkwardly on a large pile of gardening implements that were left there by expert con-artists selling illicit plots of land in the park as gardens. Due to the bad landing on the pile, he broke his own arm and received many large wounds, and the girl broke an arm and received a concussion. We, the police, thank you for your cooperation in busting these con-artists, and we aren't going to charge your father for the harm we initially believed he inflicted on the girl."

Huh? Why the hell did they just tell me that? Con-artists? Is it some sort of lame cover story for the events? Uh-huh, I conclude sarcastically. "Go bust those evil men," I return without emotion, punching my arm lightly through the air.

Yet, somehow my memories of the day turn fuzzy and blur together, as though it were one long lucid dream. Yeah. That would be nice... demons don't exist, except in dreams, right? The pointy-eared woman told me that. Yet I remember the day in bits and pieces, flashes, a dozen harsh defeats at Baka Oyaji's hands, a tattoo, a very important conversation, a demon, a scowling man, a dead angelic woman, a tall pointy-eared reporter, grueling interviews, and a pretty young girl. Yep. Today was definitely a little fuller than most days.

Shortly after, we left for the hospital. Officer Kong drives up front, and I sit in the back with Officer Jun Dee to my left. I gaze out the window, watching the city lights of Hong Kong nights drift by and streaks of rain patter on the glass pane. The hospital we travel to is some distance away... closer to the park than the police station.

Which is a good question... why didn't police investigate or interview from a closer station? Surely there is one closer than an hour away from the hospital. Oh, yeah, this guy has been working on similar cases, I think while glancing towards Officer Kong.

I yawn loudly, returning my gaze to the window on my right, trying to keep my eyes open. It's been a while since I last slept; this morning's training started with being tossed out a hospital window a few hours after midnight. As I drift slowly from awareness, I feel a warm and comfortable arm slip around my shoulders and pull me away from the window. My head drops. Soft. Warm. Smells nice. Mmmmmm...

(ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo)

Gentle arms shake me to wakefulness, shaking off dreams of a much younger age. "Mom?" I mutter, a bit bleary eyed. I feel a light knock of knuckles on my noggin. I lift myself up a bit and watch as a gorgeous young woman in uniform comes into focus. Somehow I feel I had one of the best naps of my life, as though everything is going to be better.

Then I realize on whom I was sleeping; my heart starts beating faster and blood rushes to my head and... other extremities. I panic. "I wasn't doing anything!" I say, waving my arms in front of me.

I calm down... as much as I can. Something in my brain is running in tight circles: lips, neck, ears, breasts, waist, hips, legs... the image of the athletic woman in front of me, wearing only negligee... lips, neck... I suppress the perverted thoughts in my head. I suppress the urge to lean forward, placing my lips in the crook of her neck, just below those ears. Meditate. Calm! I force my hands to my side, to keep them from slipping about her waist and pulling her to my chest. Relax. Find my center! A martial artist is a master of self.

Slowly, my breathing calms; my heartbeat slows. I notice the woman is only grinning.

The woman speaks up. After a quick chuckle from Officer Kong, and a few exchanges in Chinese, Officer Kong translates in his thick accent, "Officer Jun Dee says she was trying to make you comfortable. She's sorry if it bothered you."

Thank kami! She doesn't think I'm perverted or anything! And... and... and she's the one that held me! Maybe she wouldn't mind if I... stupid perverted thoughts, STAY DOWN! I shout, internally. She doesn't like me that way. She hardly knows me!

"Officer Jun Dee," I say to her, smiling, "thank you very much. You were, umm... very comfortable." I blush a little, and bow to both thank her and hide the blush.

After a few moments, Officer Kong translates. Jun Dee smiles, but a bit reservedly, and responds with a little something in Chinese. Officer Kong chuckles. "She says you drooled on her uniform." I blush again, but he continues obliviously, "Anyhow, we're at the hospital. I'm going to speak with your father a bit more before we let you see him, but Officer Jun Dee can lead you to Shiina's room."

So we head into the hospital.


	5. Genma's Honor

Void Contract

Chapter Four: Genma's Honor

obsidianfox

Started: July 14, 2004

Last Updated: July 24, 2004

(ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo)

I gaze down from my chair to the younger girl in front of me. Her belly slowly rises and falls at a regular rate. Her eyes are closed. A long line of stitches running from a few centimeters above her right eye towards her ear. Her right arm is in a splint, and her left hand sits relaxed, near me. The rest of her body is covered by a white cloth.

Other than that line of stitches, her face is undamaged. I take it in, slowly. Her snub nose is especially cute, framed as it is by unusually large eyes. Her pert lips are mostly together, yet partially open, relaxed entirely. Violet studs adorn her ears, partially hidden by wavy black hair which falls just a hand over her shoulders.

Officer Jun Dee stands in the doorway, watching the two of us without speaking a word. Not that I'd understand if she did.

I watch the girl for several minutes, but as I do so I feel a growing desire... no, a need to comfort her, to protect her. My eyes fixate on her little hand. It is calloused, like mine, yet well manicured. After a few more moments hesitation, I place my larger hand over hers; my fingers slip into her palm. She won't hate me for it... I just want to comfort her. Or will she? A sickness blossoms deep in my chest, born of her rejection. My visage saddens, and I gently begin to withdraw my hand.

Then I feel her small hand squeeze my fingers. I turn to see the girl watching me; her eyelids are only partially open, but I gasp as they reveal large, startlingly vivid violet eyes speckled with gold. Tears fill her eyes and threaten to spill out. Yet, I see her lips twitch into the smallest of smiles, visible only at the corners, as those hyacinth orbs gaze at me. My heart flutters. I can't help but return my broad smile to her.

After a few moments of gazing at each other, the girl drifts back to sleep, but it is a minute longer before her small hand relaxes and releases mine. I withdraw my hand, but that sickness I felt earlier is gone. She didn't reject me. I continue to watch for several minutes, still smiling.

Upon hearing Officer Kong's familiar plod, I stand up and prepare to visit Pop.

(ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo)

"Ranma, m'boy!" shouts Genma as I walk in. His bed is in a half-sitting position. His good arm reaches behind his head and he chuckles nervously. "This is a little embarrassing."

"Why's that, Pops? You fought well."

"Boy," Genma growls, "no Saotome martial artist should ever be so soundly defeated by a pile of gardening tools! No! I must devise a technique to resist edges and pointy things... I'd use you, but I think it might go better with the Saotome School of Sloth."

"Shouldn't that be the School of Saotome Sloth?" I ask, rolling my eyes. "Making laziness an art! You, too, can sit on your fat ass and do nothing," I add daintily, as if for a commercial. "Whatever, Pop. There ain't a chance I'm letting you cut me OR poke me. Besides, you and me both know it ain't no gardening tools that tore you up."

"Whatever do ya' mean, boy! My memory doesn't fail me! I can even remember promises made when I was dead dr-!" Cough. Cough.

"You hiding something from me, Pop?"  
  
"Never doubt it, boy! You haven't yet seen the full glory of the Saotome Masubetsu Kakuto Ryuu!"

"Oh, well, it isn't as if you're stupid enough to keep promises made when dead drunk; you don't even keep promises you make when your sober. Heh. I keep ALL my promises, Baka Oyaji."

"Don't you DARE insult my honor, boy! A martial artist is nothing without honor! I keep ALL my promises too! Even those I make when drunk."

"Oh, really? Maybe I need to buy you some sake, then," I reply with a smirk. "But I've seen you break promises, Pop. Remember Mrs. Tawaguchi? You promised to clean her house in return for that meal. You picked up ONE THING! And it was one of your many plates..."

"Boy, I promised I'd clean up A LITTLE. I kept my promise, did I not?"

"POP! She made me promise to clean up the rest, you lazy baka! What about Mr. Yamagawa? You promised to deweed his garden, and you destroyed it!"

"I promised to get rid of the weeds, and you were too lazy to do it, boy! You had to whine and whine and whine like a little girl, and come down with a high fever. So I found an easier way. We've had this argument before, boy. The weeds are gone, aren't they?"

"Pop! Nothing will ever grow there again! And of course I was ill! We were in the middle of poison resistance training! That's why we were at the friggin' medicinal gardens in the first place... access to poisons and antidotes. That training was cut damn short, though I don't regret it. What exactly did you do, anyway?"

"Another Saotome Secret, son, involving a biohazard suit and dioxins," Genma grouses. Then he speaks up, "Listen, boy! You can't go around making promises you aren't willing to keep! It is too easy to have conflicting promises. So, I'll let you in on another little Saotome Secret. Just as martial arts protects the body, words and loopholes protect one's honor and soul!"

"Words? Loopholes?! SOUL?!!"

"A master of words is a man to be respected, boy. Building, detecting, and blocking loopholes in agreements is a powerful art!"

"Baka Oyaji, you are hardly a master of words!"  
  
"HAHA, BOY! There is more to your old man than you think! I keep much hidden from you. I've got a degree in business, boy, with a focus on contract law. I AM a master of words. Muahahaha!" Genma laughs evilly.

Sure, Baka Oyaji a master of words, all evidence to the contrary... "I can't believe you've got a degree, Pop. You probably graduated at the bottom of your class," I jibe.

"Somebody had to," Genma says straight faced, without emotion, and looking me directly in the eyes. "And the degree is from Tokyo U! You better improve your grades. boy, or your old man will always outclass you! Hahaha!"

I boggle for a few moments. Baka Oyaji got into Tokyo U? Then I frown, darkly... How does he tell me off about improving my grades when I'm getting twelve to sixteen weeks of schooling each year? The bastard. I'll show him!

After a moment, I speak up again. "I now know demons exist, so what's this about my SOUL, Pop? You haven't bargained that away, have you?"

Genma gets a very serious look on his face. "Never, boy. Your soul is your own. I can't bargain it away even if I want to."

"IS THAT THE ONLY REASON?" I ask, scowling.

"Of course not, boy!"

"Yeah, right," I grumble.

Genma continues, "There's also the fact that no demon wants a Saotome soul... our souls are multiply blessed! What was it... bad karma magnet? interesting times? Hmmm, I should remember; my master dabbled in demonology, and the demons refused to deal for mine and gave those as the reasons. Demons just don't want blessed souls!"

"Oh, great. That explains a lot of my past, actually," I mutter, not thinking of any event in particular. My life has been interesting, and painful, if nothing else. I look at the sterile hospital tiles around my feet for a bit. I notice our bags propped up near the door. "Pop, I understand the interesting times curse, but what exactly is a bad karma magnet?"

"Oh that? Simple. It simply means everyone else's problems will somehow end up involving you and, by extension, anybody nearby. Nothing too serious. Back in the days we were samurai, our clan was highly sought after, and allowed to live in comfort in a mansion very far from our lord."

"I think those are curses, Pop."  
  
"No, those are Saotome blessings, boy! That Hibiki kid had an interesting blessing too. He'll be well traveled, I tell you, and his line is strong for it... life as a constant training trip."

"Uh huh," I reply sarcastically, trying to remember who Pop is talking about. Hibiki... Hibiki... Hibiki Ryouga? Oh! The lost boy, the fanged boy, my great friend and rival from one year in junior high.

Genma interrupts my reminiscing. "You should be proud of your lineage, boy! The Saotome clan will always be strong if we have interesting times to back our training! The path of a true martial artist is fraught with peril! Someday I'll take you to your ancestors' grave to pay your respects; every single one of them has an interesting past. Just think! Someday you'll have an heir too, who can absorb all your bad karma, and pass the Saotome blessing to the next generation," says Genma, his eyes twinkling at the idea of many strong grandchildren and the future of the Saotome line. His glazed gaze is directed at the flourescent lights above.

I'll inherit Pop's bad karma? This is definitely a curse.

Interesting times... would I choose a normal life over this? I ponder for a while, but come to no decision. Maybe I should try it sometime, and see if I like it. Eventually I notice Pop's glazed eyes and speak up, "I'm not ready for children, Pop."

"Of course not, boy! You must complete your training and get married first. Oh, Tendo-" Cough. Cough. "Anyhow," Genma turns to me with a serious look on his face, "now that we're dealing with demons, perhaps I should teach you mastery of words too. Some of those demons are damned contract lawyers... and vice versa."

"Baka Oyaji! Wouldn't NOT dealing with demons work just as well?"

"Of course not, son. If you don't have any skills, then someone will swindle you before you know it. I do it all the time," he says, grinning radiantly with pride.

"You swindle me?!"

"Well...," Pop scratches the back of his neck again for a moment, "that too, but I meant other people."

"But... but... Pop! How could you do this to your own flesh and blood!"

"It needs work, boy! Where are the tears?!"

"Arrrggh!" I growl. Real men don't cry? Where are the tears? What a crock.

"Hah, boy! You'll never be good enough to manipulate ME," says Genma. He adds, almost inaudibly, "and I think I'll put those lessons off for another year. Or three."

Of course, I snort. My old man wouldn't ever want me able to manipulate HIM.

"I aint dealin' with no demons, Pop. They should all die!" I snarl, remembering that creature I killed earlier and what happened to that girl's parents.

Genma frowns. "Not all demons are evil, boy. They, like humans and animals, range the full moral scale. Although many are evil, like the one I fought yesterday. Have I told you about that? I can't remember... I must have... where else... Was our conversation was interrupted when that girl fell?"

"Your memory really is going, you senile old fart!" I jibe.

"Noooooooo! It's too earlyyyyyy! I neeeeeeed to write down my secret techniques down before they're all loooooost!" wails Genma to the ceiling as streams of false tears fall down his cheeks.

"Yeah, you damn well better not forget that invisibility technique before you teach me, old man!"

He pauses for a moment, then turns to look at me. His face is completely dry. "That will wait at least a year, boy! No way you're disappearing on me again! But, we do need to find some temples and get some advice on where to go for mystic arts training. You're gonna learn it right, son!"

"So what do we do next?" I ask, curious.

"We search, boy! Come over here, boy, so I can whap you!" Pop shifts upwards in his bed.

"Not a chance, baka!"

Genma sits back again. "I'll be stuck in bed a few days, doctor's orders. Bastards have me on a strict diet due to some torn intestine." The man shudders a bit, and winces briefly in pain. "Damn gardening tools... I'll never look at them the same. Anyhow, it's a good chance to practice the up and coming School of Saotome Sloth.

"While I'm here, boy, don't you get lazy; you need to find a temple willing to train us, or at least willing to point us in the right direction. Sorry, son, but you're going to have to skip out on the thirty-seven Hong Kong dojos we haven't visited yet, and probably much of the rest of the Chinese itenerary."

"Waste of time anyways," I snort. "I walk in, pound the champion, pound the master, and, when they let me, pound all the advanced students at once, and don't learn a thing at most of them. I'm the best! Only the group combat gives me any problems, cuz' I can't practice it against you.

"Besides, ya' know only one in ten dojos has someone worth fighting or somethin' worth learning, and most of those won't teach me because it's some sort of family secret. Nuff' said. Now this mystic stuff... that's new." I bounce on my toes a bit as I feel excitement well in my chest. "I can hardly wait!"

Genma raises an eyebrow. "Boy, you'll need to search hard to find good and willing trainers in the mystic arts. Especially since you don't speak Chinese. Practitioners of the mystic arts are rare, and most of them won't teach you either. Besides, it'll do me good to bring in some techniques from another school. So, get to it early tomorrow! And don't slack off in your training, boy!"

"Ok," I reply, grabbing my pack. "I'll visit again tomorrow." For a moment, I pause. "Pop?" I ask seriously.

"What, son?" Genma asks, resigned.

"Well, what about the other girl? Shiina?"  
  
"She needs to find to her proper family, boy."  
  
"Her parents died, baka!" I shout, angrily.

"Even so, she might have an aunt or uncle or grandparent. I know what you're thinking. We can't take her with us, boy! She isn't some lost puppy. She's weak; she'd slow us down, and she belongs with her family!"

I scowl, but I see that Pop's right on all his arguments. "Fine, then!" I shout, turning towards the door.

"Teenagers," Pop snorts as I leave.

(ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo)

I yawn widely, stretching my jaw open and inhaling to the point of comfortable pain. Ah, that was comfortable! I can't help but yawn again. I blink a few times as my vision twists, then yawn once more. Maybe I'll camp on the hospital roof... or the nearby parking garage. Well, it is nice out tonight; roof it is.

Is Shiina awake? I wonder as I slip down the hallway towards her room. Why did my legs carry me here? I gaze sleepily towards the doorway. Officer Jun Dee flips out a pair of shades... the gesture vaguely registers as familiar, but I don't quite recall from where, so I step into the room and notice the wall that is the back of a much larger man, Officer Kong, approaching me. The man is facing Shiina's bed and holding something at arm's length.

Bump!  
  
I glare at the large back of the man who backed into me, then shout feel a sharp pain in my toes, "Ite! Hey! Watch where you're going! Get off my foot!" I shove him forward, causing him to stumble off me.

Flash! A dizzying array of red light sweeps the room, reflecting from linoleum and whitewashed walls. Somehow, the light makes me feel woozy... like I'm living in a dream. The sensation is familiar. What happened? Memories swim and splash and the world swirls around me. Officer Kong turns to face me with a scowl and dark glasses on his face and an oblong silvery device in his hand.

Kong shouts something at me in Chinese, and the scowl darkens.

Oh... those glasses! That pen camera! I vaguely recall getting flashed with the thing earlier, then being told a ridiculous story that nobody would ever believe... except Pop? Why would he believe it? Didn't I feel something then, too? Not everything is as it seems when life feels just like lucid dreams. Confusion sweeps through me and a chill creeps through me, stunning me briefly.

Is it the pen that does this? That wasn't even direct; what would looking into that light directly do? I shudder at the thought.

Officer Kong raises his arm to face the device towards me.

I reach out and grab it just before it flashes. The red light briefly pours between my fingers and through my skin. "Hey! What is this thing, and why are ya' pointing it at me again?" I demand, jerking the thing from Officer Kong's hands.  
  
Click!  
  
I turn towards the sound to see Officer Jun Dee in her dark shades pointing a gun directly at my head with her good arm. In fact, I see right down the barrel that sits no more than an a hand from my eyes.

" Stop! " she shouts in English. Hey! I know that word! part of me thinks, proudly.

Internally, the rest of me sighs. My mind quickly catalogues the reasons. First, she's doing it all wrong; at this range I can dodge the barrel easily, and she loses the range advantage granted by the gun; she'd be much better off aiming from several paces. Second, today is the first day I've had a gun pointed at me, and it's already happened twice now. Third, these officers whom I liked are obviously not what they say they are. Fourth, it is really stupid to pull a weapon on someone when you aren't willing to use it immediately... Pop always told me that. Finally, today's just gone from... worse to worser? It went from bad to worse a long time ago.

With a single quick step, the gun and the arm carrying it are sitting over my shoulder. I reach up, and a single quick twist drops the gun into my own hand. Another step and I'm behind the beautiful female officer, and a quick shove knocks her into Officer Kong, barreling them both to the ground.

Oh, damn! I just hit a girl! "I'm sorry! Are you okay? How do I say this in English?" I ask, panicking, waving my arms in front of me. The effect might have been pathetic and comical if it weren't for loaded automatic pistol I'm waving about in one hand and the silver memory-raping pen device I'm waving about in the other.

Officer Kong whips out his gun and points towards at me, and squeezes the trigger. I lazilly step and fall to one side, dodging the trajectory. Pop taught me this with air rifles and paintball guns without any armor; the memory is a fond one of fun-filled months spent with guys in the JSDF a few years back. I went to an army brat's academy for a while. Well... there were also those nastier days with the American units; they didn't seem to like " Karate Kid " until I had to go, then they all said they'd miss me. Americans are sooo rude.

I yawn, wondering, Why am I so dreamy in battle? It certainely isn't a good habit.

BANG! The bullet misses, and I step in to take his gun; however, the large man hisses in pain and drops it to the floor. From his gun hand protrudes a tight grouping of a chopstick, a fork, and a butterknife. I blink... I didn't put those there.

A sudden movement from the bed tells me who did.

The girl stands between the officers and I with Officer Kong's gun her right hand, pointed towards the officers. I can't help but wonder if her broken right arm, which is in both splint and sling, will be able to handle the recoil; the pistol is a rather big one. Her left hand carries a pair of tweezers, a spoon, and another chopstick; all are held in what vaguely appears to be a throwing position.

Spoon, tweezers, and a chopstick? Huh? Anything goes, I guess.

All thought suddenly ceases when I notice one more thing: her backside is completely bare... uncovered by her hospital gown. I spend a moment looking at her back, legs, and a well-rounded pair of buttocks. Oh! Wow! I wish I was seeing the front. A familiar heat fills me as a powerful blush rushes to my face. I waver a little bit as I feel light-headed, and warmth trickles down my upper lip. My heart flutters for a few moments.

Slowly, my brain shifts back into gear... I'm letting myself get distracted when GUNS are involved? Damn. That can't be a good thing. I slowly regain my concentration... Look. Away. From the girl. Id finally returns control to Ego, and I find myself facing the officers... at least more so. I can't help but notice my brain spending a lot of time processing the girl in my peripheral vision.

Vaguely a memory surfaces... Oyaji shouting at me after I spent the evening playing games with a girl at a dojo, "Girls are a distraction from the art, boy!" Is this what Pop meant? Damn. He's more right than I thought.

As my mind recovers, I notice the girl is shouting at the officers in Chinese, and the officers reluctantly answering in turn. I see Officer Kong reaching slowly for something in his boot... another weapon? I step forward to stop him, but see there's no need as suddenly a chopstick and the handle of the spoon are pinning his arm to the floor... by going directly through his arm.

Okaaaaaay. So this girl has quite the throwing arm. I grin at the thought.

"What is this thing? What does it do to our minds?" I ask, suddenly interrupting the Chinese dialogue. I step up alongside the girl, mostly to get my eyes off her back.

Officer Kong smirks at me from his position on the ground. "Why, just return it to me and I'll show you. Apparently you weren't hit with it well enough last time," he snarls, then mutters a few choice words in Chinese.

The girl glances towards me, and I find myself stunned by her large gold-speckled violet almond shaped eyes, then she turns to face the officers again; "Answer the boy's question! What did that thing do to me? What were you trying to do to me?! Why am I in a hospital?! ..." she flips into their own language and continues to shout at them in Chinese, pointing the gun towards them expertly.

Eventually Jun Dee starts answering; her voice wavers and her body shudders a few times, but most of her reactions are hidden by those dark glasses.

After a few minutes, the girl turns to face me. "Give me that thing, little boy" she growls. Her gun, still pointed to the two officers, wavers a bit.

She's younger than me, and she's calling me a 'kid'? "Not a chance, 'little girl', I'm not lettin' anyone rape my memories," I snarl. "Not even you."

I sense movement and a bright flash of light from the corner of my eyes; Officer Kong and his partner didn't waste the opportunity. A new doorway exists where a cement wall used to; the reddish glow of molten rock and smoldering wood still surrounds the neo-doorway.

How the hell did they do that?

Clunk, clunk, clunk... something hollow and metal bounces towards us. I glance towards my feet in time to see a dull metal sphere bumping into them.

"Oh, shit!" shouts the girl. She dashes towards the door, but grinds to a halt when tugging me to follow doesn't cause me to budge. "Come on, you idiot!"

Oh! It must be a bomb. A BOMB! I pull the girl back towards me, ignoring her cries of my idiocy, then tuck her against my body and charge the window at a full Saotome sprint. Momentarily I try to remember what floor we're on.

KABOOM! A powerful shockwave strikes me just as I jump; it would break a lesser man, but for me it just gives the boost I need. Fire lashes my back as I clear the window.

Below me, I see cars moving about, looking vaguely larger than beetles. We're pretty high up! The girl starts shifting and fighting in my grip. "Put me down! Don't touch me!" she shouts.

I turn her around to let her see downwards. "Do you reeeaaally want me to put you down?"

"Ouch! Aaaaaah!" The girl shrieks in fright, shudders in my grip, and punctuates it with, "Don't touch me there! You pervert!"

But, she does stop fighting me. I glance down and see her bare backside; her nightgown whips in the wind, then notice my arm is crossing one breast with the hand on the other, and her bad arm is pinned against my chest. Oops! I blush and flip her back around to facing upwards.

Momentarily, I'm torn by indecision. How do I hold her so she won't think I'm a pervert, yet still protect her from the landing...

Shoot! That's right, I'm still in the air... and losing altitude fast. Without further thought, I grasp her closely to me and with a few minor Saotome disciplines, direct us towards the roof of a much lower building.

Heheh. Nobody expects a man that looks like Pop to be an expert on aerial combat, but he is. It only really bothers me when he says he looked a lot like me once.

I land and absorb the momentum of the fall with my legs, then look at the girl in my arms. Her face is completely white. She's in shock. "Are you okay?" I question, concerned.

She shivers a few times and doesn't answer.

"Shiina?"

That snaps her back into reality and shoves herself away from me. She lands in a rather undignified manner on the ground. "Who are you? How do you know who I am!" she snarls. She points Officer Kong's large pistol towards me with a shaky, but uninjured, left arm.

I yawn powerfully. Should I disarm her, or try to earn her trust while her gun is pointed at me? Well, she probably feels more secure with the gun, and I can dodge if she tries shooting. I remain standing and answer tiredly, "I'm Ranma Saotome of the Masubetsu Kakuto Ryuu. Pop and I saved you from a demon this morning at a park. The man you were with... I think he was your father, shouted your name... Do you remember any of this? And can you stop pointing that thing at me?"

Shiina panics, but keeps her gun pointed towards me. "I remember it vaguely... just at the edge of my memory, like a dream after I wake up. It's fading quickly. I think it's something that THING did to me," she snarls, nodding towards the device in my hand. "The woman said it's a... neuralizer? I don't know if that's the best way to translate it, but it messes with memories. She didn't tell me how to use it. I vaguely recall a big man with a gi, and that Mom got killed." She shakes a bit. "Did that happen? Is Dad okay?" she asks, her voice small, scared, worried. Her gun wavers a bit, then returns to me.

Looking at her gun, I realize that Officer Jun Dee's pistol is no longer in my possession, although the little silvery pen is still clenched in my right hand.

I glare at the neuralizer for a few moments and resist the sudden urge to shatter it in my hand.

Why did I resist that urge?

The answer comes to me: power. Such a device is like that proverbial ring of invisibility back in the days before fingerprints and DNA; it lets you do anything and get away with it. Nobody will even remember it was you. A low growl emanates from my throat. CRACK! My hands come together and the neuralizer shatters, twists, and tears beyond recognition. I drop the remains of the device to the roof.

Shiina looks at those remains with wide eyes. "Hey! You could have given it to me if you don't want it! That would be sooo useful..."

"Nobody should have that sort of power," I growl. These so-called 'officers' are nasty people if they mess with the minds of people and toss bombs about in a hospital.

Pop... did that bomb damage the hospital? "Pop is still up there," I mutter, looking. I sigh with relief when I see that it doesn't look like the building was severely damaged, then I turn my eyes back to Shiina, noting her rather skimpy dress.

Sirens wail just a few floors below as police vehicles approach the hospital. I'll need to get to my pack before they do if I want to avoid another painful day of questions; I have a task for tomorrow as is.

Yawn. "Ya' asked 'bout your pop? Your pop was killed while I was knocked out. I promise ta' tell the full story later. For now, you need some more clothing, and I need to fetch my pack before those police do. Ya' mind if I go?"

Shiina glances down at how she's dressed, then lowers her gun. "You better come back here!" she shouts. I grin wearily and leap backwards off the roof.

(ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo)

Thump.

Shiina blinks a few times, then swings her gun around to face me. "Ack! How did you get behind me? How did you get up there and back so fast?" She glances to the ground to see the white gi that I tossed at her.

"I'm the best!" I say, answering her questions. Then I add, "Wear those. I couldn't find where they stored your clothes. Err... it might be a little big for ya', but it's better than what you've got at the moment. I'll turn around."

A few moments later, "It's safe now!"

I turn around to see her in my final spare gi. So far, I've lost the one I was wearing when I woke up in the hospital this morning, I lost another to yellow icky-goo, and I gave my final one to the girl in front of me. "We'll get more clothes," I tell her, yawning. "That don't fit ya' too well, and it's my final spare. But, fer' now, I need ta' get some sleep. Umm... you can stick with me if ya want, I guess. But yer' gonna' have ta' stop pointin' that thing at me. It's really disturbing."

Shiina sighs, then lowers the gun and stuffs it into her obi (belt).

"I have a few questions for ya'... first, is the safety on this thing set right?" I slowly pull Jun Dee's gun from my pack, cautiously so as to not alarm little miss trigger happy.

She grabs the gun from me, glances at it, then makes a few expert motions with Officer Kong's much larger gun before handing it to me. "I'll be able to handle this one better," she says in quiet explanation. Then she snarls, "I wouldn't think you'd use something like that, seeing as how you're looking at it in such disgust."

I stuff the horrid piece into my pack. "Well, the police took my prints this afternoon, so I was thinkin'... well, I'll probably just drop it in the ocean, but I'd rather not have it go off in my pack when I'm jumpin' about. You seem pretty comfortable with guns," I say, almost as a question.

"It's in my training," she replies coldly. "You can tell me about the day later. For now, we should get away from here and find someplace safer." She sidles up close to me, and wraps her good arm around my neck. Her face flushes red.

I feel her hot breath against my cheek. A warmth rises in my chest and face. "Oh... yeah. Of course," I manage to stutter out.

After tossing on my pack, I lift her into my arms, and leap from the building.


	6. Dreams

Void Contract

Chapter Five: Dreams

obsidianfox

Started: July 25, 2004

Last Updated: August 11, 2004

(ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo)

"Get back here, boy! Fight like a man," growled Pops from some distance behind me.

I turned about in mid-leap. "Ha ha, Pop. You've already lost, and I'm starvin'! I'm gettin' somethin' to eat." With that, I flip in mid-air in time to bounce off another building.

"You had your chance to eat, boy. It ain't my fault you're too slow. Now get back here and finish the lesson!"

"Too slow, Pop?" I ask, raising an eyebrow as I glance over my shoulder. "Then why are you behind me?" I snort in derision. "Ain't no way I'm doin' more snorkelin' with cement blocks... 'specially in these waters. If the fish won't swim in that filth, why should I? Besides, even if I did catch a fish down there, I wouldn't wanna eat em'!"

"I know what's best for you, boy! Get back here."

I turn to face my old man just long enough to poke out my tongue, pull down on my eye with a finger, and blow a raspberry. I hop off another building and look about for something to eat that won't taste like sewage.

What I find -

... flash ...

I fly through the air to yet another building, watching cars drive by underneath; the people below are blissfully unaware of the two blurs streaking through the air above them.

"DIE NOW, HUMAN! RETURN THE GIRL TO ME!" shouts the creature chasing me. The language is not any I recognize, but the words make themselves understood anyhow. A streak of blue-green light passes me as I shift subtly to left to avoid it. KABOOM! Concrete, stone, and glass showers the street below as I leap to another building.

"Not a chance, Kermit!" I shout over my shoulder. The girl in my arms shifts a bit, trying to get comfortable. Her eyes open slightly and she gazes up at me... or at least in my direction, as her violet-blue eyes aren't focused on anything in particular.

I shift her back to prepare for another impact. I can't fight while carrying her; I need to find a place to hide her. I bounce to another building and glance about for someplace to set her down... someplace that she won't be found.

... flash ...

I dangle in the air, supported by my own shattered and dislocated arms. Foul breath wafts from the frog-like creature in front of me, as he grips my arms to hold me a few inches from his face. Through the disgust and pain, I repeat a mantra to keep my focus. A martial artist protects the weak. I've protected the girl. A martial artist protects the weak. I've protected the girl. A martial artist -

"YOU'RE MAKING A MISTAKE, HUMAN. TELL ME WHERE THE GIRL IS AND I WILL SPARE YOUR MISERABLE EXISTENCE!"

"Never!" I shout. I cry in pain as the creature slowly grinds my wrists together with one of its oversized hand. I start working on a different mantra. I'm a man. Real men don't cry. I'm a man. Real men -

"I think it is time to remove a limb... how about one of those legs you're so proud of. After all, I can't let you run away from me again," the creature says, casually. It reaches down and grabs one of my legs. A quick tug causes me to wince in pain as the leg is jerked briefly from its socket. However, my strong and elastic tendons hold my leg to my body.

I'm made of sterner stuff than most. Through the haze of pain, I manage a smile.

The creature growls as it tugs a few more times then throws me to the Hong Kong rooftop. The roof buckles under the initial blow of my body, and I bounce a few times before coming to a rest. I lay there, dazed.

"TELL ME NOW, HUMAN! ... OR YOUR LIFE ENDS THIS MOMENT!" The creature shouts as it raises one of its arms, palm facing me.

I hear a familiar voice drift from a nearby building, "Boy, where are you! Get back here so I can clout you!"

"Pop," I mutter happily, "look at all the stars!"

A brilliant aquamarine glow fills my peripheral vision, and shift my gaze to the giant frog demon that shares my roof. The creature snorts, "I'LL CATCH UP WITH HER AGAIN, HUMAN. DO NOT BELIEVE YOU'VE PROTECTED HER. YOUR LIFE ENDS NOW, AND YOU'VE ACCOMPLISHED NOTHING. ... DRAGON GRAVE!"

With that, a dragon of aquamarine light launches from the creature's open palm. I move feebly to dodge, but it strikes me anyhow, grabbing my chest within its jaws. Pain tears into me as I'm shoved through the rooftop, then continue to accelerate through floor after floor. Everything the dragon of light touches explodes violently. Splinters of wood, stone, and metal rip into my body... intensifying the pain before I'm shoved through the remains of whatever stands in the path of the beam.

Then, excepting a raging headache, the pain suddenly ceases, even as I continue to accelerate deep into the building. Something in my detached mind registers this as a very bad thing. The rest of my mind rejoices the lack of pain as I get shoved through a desk, several cubicles, an I-beam, a computer, another desk, a stone wall, and a metal door.

I count a half-dozen people diving for cover, bodies peppered with splinters, and clearly see the surprised and pained expression of an office lady whose desk was just demolished in front of her. Blood gushes and peppers the area as her leg is shorn by the exploding shrapnel and shards of metal pepper her body.

A large red stapler explodes into metal shards and violently tossed staples, although the little metal shards that embed themselves in my arm are not felt at all. Papers fly as I tear through a filing cabinet. A toilet explodes into pointy-edged ceramic and I'm drenched in filthy water.

Then I'm falling backwards, facing upwards. The dragon of light fades into nothing as I go freely airborne after being shoved out through the side of the building. Several large pieces of debris join me in the fall... large slabs of stone and several long pieces of piping twirl in the air above me. I automatically begin shift away from the debris in order to land properly and safely...

but my limbs don't obey.

I panic and fight to move, but it doesn't work. My brain lets me know, on an intellectual level, what's going on. I'm falling. I'm paralyzed. I can't do a breakfall. I'm bleeding and broken from hundreds of injuries. If the landing doesn't kill me, the debris might; if the debris doesn't, I'll bleed to death from injuries already sustained. I will die soon after I hit the ground.

My ego kicks in. MOVE, body, MOVE! I haven't finished my duty! I'm the best! I CAN do this.

But, still my limbs don't obey me.

I'm paralyzed. I'll die. I never thought it would happen to me. I'm the best. I'm young. I have a full life ahead of me.

Isn't my life supposed to start flashing now? I wonder. I try to recall my past, but the only memory is that of my laughing gaily with Pop after a nameless day of intense training. But... no flashing images. How boring; at least it would have filled time on the way down.

I sigh painfully as I fall, unable to do anything else. I failed. I didn't save the girl. I can't protect anyone after I die. A half dozen others were injured or killed due to my weakness. I wasn't strong enough. I was weak.

I'm weak. Who will help me? Pop, where are you?

This fall is taking a REALLY long time... am I dreaming?

Then I hear a girl's voice scream, "RANMA!"

(ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo)

I wake up scared, sweating. I failed. I FAILED. I was weak. I gave up. I need more power, more endurance, more skill... it can't happen again. I won't allow it to happen again.

Again? That was just a dream, right?

Obviously it was; I'm still alive.

Then I remember the demon I fought today... the six-limbed, big beaked, yellow ichor demon-beast freak with fire eyes that paralyze. The hellhound, for lack of a better noun.

Even if that was a dream, it COULD happen.

Being the best isn't good enough. Not anymore. Not against demons. I need enough power to both defeat demons and to protect others at the same time.

I glance at my fists and shake my head in sorrow... these hands by themselves aren't strong enough to take out that frog demon from my dreams or the hellhound from yesterday. In the end, it was guns and throwing knives that took the hellhound out.

I come to a resolution. I'll study those mystic arts hard. I'll improve my skills in weaponry; what moderate skill I have was only gained to learn weaknesses in various strikes.

My ego rebels at becoming dependent on weaponry, even a little bit. Weapons aren't part of me. Weapons can be taken away. A warrior dependent on weaponry has an unnecessary weakness. I could have beaten that hellhound with my fists, given more time. I almost did!

However, a smaller, but growing, part of me clouts my ego and says to be practical; even if I can win with my fists, is it right to prolong the fight and potentially let someone get hurt or killed? Someone like, say, Shiina's father? What is the first duty of the martial artist? To protect the weak, of course. If I had a good sword, that hellhound wouldn't have made it out of the park, and Shiina's father would still be alive. The hellhound would have lost a leg on my first strike.

I recall listening to Li Ling Ling from behind my hoagie; sometimes I'll need to become a warrior. I can't save everyone. Hopefully that doesn't happen often.

But when the warrior's away, the martial artist can play. I don't need to become dependent on weaponry.

However, I will need to acquire some weapons of my own... and soon. If I encounter another demon tomorrow, I can't let myself be responsible for more deaths because I'm not prepared to fight it... even if being prepared means carrying a blade. I suppose, perhaps, some ki techniques can provide me with weapons. Pop said I had ki-claws with the neko-ken... but that technique is somewhat... unique. I shudder. Until I learn something I can use, I need to get some real weapons. I know ki can enhance weapons used; I recall a few fights with kendoists that could cut trees down with a bokuto. That has to be ki.

I grab the three throwing knives and look at them for a moment, gazing at my shadowy, distorted reflection in the dark. These are definitely Shiina's, but I'd like to learn them too. Maybe she can show me; she's much better than Pop at thrown weapons. I'll ask before I return them to her. I'd rather use these than... that gun. I sneer momentarily, before my face forms a smirk. Heh. And, for non-lethal fights, learning to throw chopsticks would be useful.

As the dream begins to fade, I look about. It is still dark, late at night, with city lights filtering into the abandoned building where we're camping for the night. I've only been asleep a few hours. I vaguely recall someone calling for me, but cannot remember if it was the dream or someone awake. From my tent, I hear a low, regular moaning sound. Is she in pain?

I scuttle over towards it and poke my head in while asking, "Shiina, ya' alright?"

My eyes pop out of my head and float across pale naked flesh, breasts, hips, and legs dimly in the bluish shadowy light that filters into the tent. Soft shadows accentuate her curves and soft skin. Her good arm lies across her body, pressing against one breast and hiding her soft belly and... other bits. With my eyes, I trace the shadowed curves of her tight abdomen, navel, and hips.

In a flurry of motion, Shiina covers herself with my blanket and grabs her gun, but she doesn't immediately swing it in my direction. Instead, the girl directs her gold flecked violet orbs to my own cerulean eyes; sweat glistens on her forehead and a weird, embarrassed grin contorts her face. I blush and return an embarrassed grin of my own even as I pull my head back out of the tent and move silently and preemptively to avoid any gunfire.

What the heck was I doing, ogling a naked girl? Why's she sleeping naked in MY bedroll? I blush a little more. I'm not sure whether I should be disgusted or excited about that, so I shove it aside and deny myself any opinion on the matter.

After regathering my wits, which takes a while... but apparently takes less time for myself than for Shiina, I say, "Err... sorry. I shoulda' knocked or somethin'. Did'ja call? Ya' aren't hurt or nuthin', are ya'? Ya' need anythin'?"

A long moment of silence follows my question.

"Yes, you should have announced yourself. As far as what I need... I could REALLY use a smoke, and some panties would also be nice, but I can take care of that in the morning. Go back to sleep, Ranma," Shiina says from the tent. "Pervert," she adds under her breath.

I cringe a little at that accusation; this is the first time I actually deserved it. On the other hand, I did take a nice, long, good look. Heh. All in all, it was worth it... at least if she doesn't shoot perverts.

"Ya' really should sleep in the gi, 'least until you've got undies. If you're attacked at night, it don't do to be spendin' time gettin' dressed," I say as I return to my blanket near the tent. "And I'll be kinda' distracted if you fight naked!" I add as I lie down.

"Baka Hentai!" she shouts from the tent. A muffled giggle follows and I grin; she can take a little teasing. She adds, a bit more affectionately, "Good night, Baka Hentai."

"G'night," I reply, cringing. She won't be calling me that in the morning, will she?

I wrap the blanket about myself. With the clear summer weather, not much more is needed, although my pillow would be nice, but Shiina's got that. Panties... damn; I resolve to wash that gi and my bedroll the next chance I get. What else did she ask for... a smoke? Shiina smokes? What a disgusting habit... and bad on the lungs, too. Breath is central to life and spirit in martial arts. It is too bad such a beautiful girl is marred by such filth.

On the other hand... far better alive and smoking than dead. Both her parents died.

She's taking it remarkably well.

Maybe the neuralizer helped. Much of yesterday still feels fake, like a dream, just from the indirect light of that evil device... especially when combined with the general weirdness of the day. It sure makes denial easier.

Even so, if my Pop had died... I shove that dreadful thought aside. Hard. Even so, a single, powerful, silent sob wracks my chest. I almost lost him yesterday... and he almost lost me. I'm lucky the creature didn't slice my throat wide open. I'm lucky I awoke in time to protect Pop. I'm lucky Pop's injuries weren't more permanent.

I was lucky.

Shiina wasn't.

Silent tears seep from my closed eyes as I return to slumber.

(ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo)

"I think this is it. This is a true temple," I say, looking at the building ahead of me. I stand in front of it a moment longer, then I move to enter.

Except I'm somehow still standing still. Well, I better get moving. I start walking in... But neither leg leaves the ground. Instead, I continue gazing into the lot ahead of me.

Minutes pass. Shiina takes a deep swig of water from my canteen, then screws the cap back on. "It's HOT out here! Come on! Let's get going! If you don't want to enter, then let's go to a mall... with air conditioning. I need some clothing and this gi is starting to chafe," Shiina complains.

I look at her. She's carrying my canteen and wearing my gi which is drenched heavily in her sweat. Heat rises visibly in waves from the asphalt and the summer sun beats down on Hong Kong. For me, the weather isn't particularly uncomfortable.

Ahead of us lies the seventh temple we've visited today. The temple itself is enclosed by wooden fence and contains a small park with a few large trees to provide shade, a small pond, flower gardens, vegetable gardens, and an electric pump powered waterfall. Several weather-worn stone Buddhas line either side of a cobblestone path to the doorway. On each side of the entry gate is a canvas scroll saying something in Chinese calligraphy.

I eye the scrolls warily, and a sense of foreboding rises within me. I have yet to speak with the priest at this temple. In fact, I have yet to cross the threshold.

I start to step forward, but end up turning to Shiina and telling her, "Hey, I never said you had to come with me. This is important to me; I'll visit every temple in Hong Kong if I have to."

"You need me here 'cause you don't speak a word of Chinese. You're wasting my time. What makes you think this temple will be any different from the others?"

"It just is! I can feel it, okay?"

"Then let's get this over with!" Shiina growls.

I start to step forward yet again, but instead turn to Shiina and say, "Just give me a moment. I've gotta get prepared."

Shiina walks past me and to the gateway, then turns to face me and taps one toe on the ground impatiently. "You've been standing there for at least five minutes now! How much more 'prepared' do you need to get?"

I raise my left leg, put it in front of my right, then set it down. It lands next to my left foot. I scowl in frustration. Why the hell can't I move forward?

Shiina directs a dark glare in my direction, then stomps up to me, grabs my hand, and jerks me towards the temple entrance. I stumble a bit, unable to voluntarily move my legs in the direction she's tugging me. I reach out to catch myself. Then white fire flares from the scroll, searing my outstretched hand. "YEEEOUCH!" I shout, jerking my hand back. I stick my hand in my mouth. The pain fades rapidly, but then nausea sweeps through me, causing bile to rise in my throat before I swallow it back.

What are these scrolls? Magic? Why did it burn me? I stand there for a moment in shock. I glance at my hand, but no injury is evident. I wipe the saliva on my gi. When I look back at Shiina, she drops my other hand and stares at me, eyes wide with fear. She takes a few steps away from me, scared. "Get away from me, you demon!" she shrieks. She turns and runs into the temple grounds.

I watch her go, somehow unable and unwilling to follow, despite my urge to do so. Why did she call me a demon? I gaze at the scrolls a bit longer, feeling a bit freaked out. Nausea squeezes my chest and stomach. I force myself to place one foot in front of another until I'm past the gateway.

Then, suddenly, moving forward feels natural to me once again. The nausea, however, remains. I sit down on a stone bench in the temple grounds to collect myself before heading into the main temple building. I watch as a colorful koi leaps from the small pond then drops back into the water with a small splash.

"How may I help you, child?" a gruff, deep voice questions, hostility plainly evident. I look up to meet eyes with an ancient, wrinkled Chinese man with white hair hanging from a bun in his head, and a white, neatly trimmed beard and mustache that hangs to his belly. He wears green and white temple robes that hang down to hide his feet; a motif of white lotus blossom decorates vertical green bars hanging from each shoulder. Despite his apparent age, he stands straight and tall; his arms are crossed in a no-nonsense fashion. The man's eyes are obsidian cold, hard, and black as they glare into my own; I feel power rolling from them in waves.

He must be skilled as I didn't notice him before he spoke. Even as lost in thought as I was, very few people could get that close to me. I quell my surprise and swallow the anger that briefly wells up within me in response to the priest's hostility; this person may have the skills and powers I need. I return his hostile gaze with my own even one to begin a spiel well practiced from the six temples I've already visited. I grin a little. I don't need Shiina to translate; this priest knows Japanese.

"I am Ranma Saotome of the Saotome Masubetsu Kakuto Ryuu. I'm lookin' for a teach' in the mystical side of the martial arts. You know... ki blasts and stuff. Ya' can help, right?" I grin expectantly as my eloquent speech works its magic and manipulates the man into helping me. I'll become a master of words even without your help, Pop.

"No. I refuse to help you, you Japanese boytoy. I despise you Japanese. You dare insult my temple by approaching while dressed like that? I've seen wounds that are better dressed than you are. You aren't worth my time or my breath. Get out of my sight and out of my temple. Go become a drag queen in Bangkok; they'll teach you how to dress, and it's the only thing you'll ever be good for with your effeminate looks. The Masubetsu Kakuto Ryuu is a child's art invented by that lecherous drunken shit called Happosai who uses explosives as self-assurance in face of his own impotence; it is fit only for clockwork dolls, little children, and Yankees. Oh, and I guess it's good enough for Japanese boytoys like you. The higher art isn't for you, child. Leave these grounds lest I remove you from them." So saying, the man turns about and starts walking away.

"How DARE you insult my school," I shout, ignoring for a moment the insults to my masculinity and heritage. I clench my fists, seething. Must... maintain... self-... control. What would a master of words say? Insult can be met with insult. Perhaps I can insult him into helping me like Pop always does to get me to do things. I respond, "I AM ready for the higher arts, and I need them to fight demons. I'll have you know the Masubetsu Kakuto Ryuu has already made me the best martial artist of my generation. You're just jealous that you don't know it. You're just a coward, afraid I'll be more powerful than you if you teach me your so called 'higher art' despite the fact you'll be leaving both it and life behind in your old age, you geriatric fart."

Heh. I'm a genius; I remembered and properly applied the word 'geriatric'. I'm definitely well on my way to being a master of words.

The man turns to face me and raises a brow at my impudence, and flips a hand through his long beard, tossing it into the air from which it drifts back into place before he starts speaking. What he says tests, and easily finds, the limits of my self control. He says, "You moronic, disgusting, dog. You think you are worthy of my art? Why would I help a Japanese mongrel like you? You should face legal action for your ridiculous attempt to impersonate a man. You're the kind of greasy, giggling, girly gombeen who buys STDs from a viral lab just to make it look like you get laid. I'd tell you to go fuck yourself and the horse you rode in on, but looking at that stupid grin on your face, I'd say you already have." The man stops only to take a breath.

"ENOUGH!" I shout, finally getting a word in edgewise. I'm seeing red. I leap at the man, arms swinging.

The man dodges out of range, then continues. "You aren't even worth the energy expended to calculate your worth, you syphilitic demonic whore, but from those pathetic blows I've determined your value doesn't even amount to a festering discharge from a leper's rectum in Calcutta. Calling you a pea brain would be an insult to peas, you jellyfish-sucking mental midget. I curse you, you whose word is worthless; may you turn into a frog, a stork eat you, and shit you from a five-hundred meter height. You are a preposterously repugnant sycophant and a maladjusted, coma-inducing failure to endure the scrutiny of those with distinction." He punctuates his statement by spitting in my face while dodging another volley of punches.

"I'M GOING TO KILL YOU!" I shout, wiping the slimy mucous from my eyes with one arm. I then leap at the man again, arms and legs flailing. My self-control is shot to hell.

"Your braying causes my ears discomfort, you ass." says the old man. He knocks my arms aside, casually redirecting my attack. "You couldn't give an armless parapalegic amputee a good fight." He turns my attack into a throw and plants me into the cobblestone walkway. "After you finish falling over your own feet, I can dress your wounds; it would be an improvement to hide your putrid pustule-covered pimples you delinquent nose-picking puss-covered discharge of mucous-membrane cause of nightmares in small children. With such a demonic visage, I wouldn't be surprised if you get your own Shinto temple in Japan after you're long dead. I despise your face." He stomps at my head, but I roll out of the way at the last moment. A crater and a cloud of dust is all that is left of the cobblestone upon which my head had lain a moment before.

I don't have any pimples! I growl internally. When I roll back to my feet, I notice through my anger that I'm dimly glowing red. I gaze at my hands, mouth agape, then turn to look at my legs and body as I dodge a strike to my chin. I sense the manner in which I'm pouring energy into my emotions, into my aura, draining me as surely as if I was running. I'll need to try and duplicate this, later. I turn my angry glare back to the old man. I grin widely, evilly; the aura Pop talked about is back, and this geriatric old man is in for a pounding. My aura suddenly flips to blue as I regain my confidence and self-control. I start launching a series of punches and kicks at the old man.

This time the old man saves his breath as he dodges my attacks like air, right in front of me but impossible to strike. He counterattacks with a quick open-palmed strike to my chest. I fly backwards into one of the Buddha statues, shattering it before falling to the ground in a lump. "You scum-scrubbing snot-eyed ass-wipe that so readily desecrates the image of Buddha," he says, "you must be Shinto, worshipping long dead oni that have neither desire nor ability to aid you in life." Then he claps his hands together in front of him and holds them there. "Hi-sei-ken!" the man whispers; the words, spoken almost distinctly, carry to my ears. I feel the man's aura surge, then the man's hands begin to glow with white fire. The white blaze reaches out with tongues of flame to lick the air.

Pop and I, like most Japanese families, loosely follow both the Buddhist and Shinto ways, in addition to enjoying various Christain holidays, especially when food is being distributed. However, this man's last insult falls on deaf ears; I've fixed my attention and my gaze upon the flickering white blaze around the old man's ancient hands. Hiseiken... roughly Holy Fire Fist. Oddly enough, it makes sense when I translate it. "Why'd you name yer' technique in Japanese if you 'despise' us," I barb as I regain standing position. "I'll bet you stole if from us Japanese in the first place, you Chinese antique."

"I am Pai Mei, high priest of the White Lotus clan," says the man, ignoring my barbs. He grins widely, showing stained teeth between hairy lips. "I would let you name the one who kills you that you may join the ranks of those I've destroyed before you and welcome those that follow," he adds calmly. The old man surges forward to attack with fists of white flame.

I bounce upwards, flip backwards, and balance precariously on the remains of the Buddha statue to dodge the old man's attack. The man's fist tears through the statue, shattering the rest of it as I bounce off to another statue. I gasp as I see a few pieces near the base of the ex-Buddha statue glowing a dim cherry red, although they fade even as I watch. Neat ki technique, I think, and I'll have to avoid those hands...

Then the man pulls one hand back to his ear, tongues of flame licking between his open fingers, then shoves forward, launching a white fireball from his right hand. The fireball steals all the flame. I easily dodge the unexpected ball of flame, then another from his other hand. I surge forward to attack in his moment of weakness.

The man simply smiles as he claps his hands together; when he pulls them apart they glow with white flames once again. This time he neither concentrated nor held them together; the clap was just that, a clap. He fades away from the power of my cresting kick, then surges towards and around my followup with blazing hands.

I grimace as the flame licks painfully across my cheek as I narrowly dodge a straight punch. I hiss in pain as I block an attack with my forearm. When I strike back, Pai Mei simply grins and guards my attacks with burning hands, inflicting far more pain to me than he suffers. However, the pain from the flames is temporary and the burnt skin remains blistered for only a few seconds before recovering. I blink a few times; my ki healing seems to have really improved recently. Pai Mei also watches the healing with some interest. "You heal fast, like a teenage mutant ninja cockroach that just won't die; it is too bad that you waste such an ability by allowing it to encourage your utter lack of defense," he says as finds and penetrates a hole in my defense that I had not recognized. His blow knocks me headfirst through a second Buddha statue, destroying it utterly.

Damn. This guy's more skilled than me, even without the Hiseiken. Gotta expect that, I guess, says part of me; after all, he's generations above me in practice. However, as a student of my father and the Masubetsu Kakuto Ryuu, I must accept all challenges and I'm not allowed to lose any of them. But, how will I beat him and his technique? I put a detached part of my mind to work on that topic.

I grunt and begin to stand up, only to be grabbed roughly from behind. I feel intense pain as the gripping hand sears into my flesh, and hear a nasty hissing and popping like meat left over a fire. Actually, it is meat over a fire. The smell of my burning flesh churns my stomach and intestines and twists my face in disgust, all the more so that it actually smells appetizing. My right arm is twisted into a fairly primitive, but very effective, arm lock. That is, it is really effective unless you are willing to dislocate your own shoulder to escape it, or have enough strength to lift the man holding it and resist the pressure. I've learned to do both with Oyaji.

"Your arm is mine. I think I'll take it and study that healing of yours," says Pai Mei. "Washi Tsumetetsu!" (roughly: eagle iron claw). Even as he speaks, I twist out of the primitive lock on my arm by lifting Pai Mei briefly with my arm, shoulder, and hips. I hiss in anger and pain as I feel three deep gouges cut into my arm, tearing and searing through flesh and bone and back even as I escape; whatever that technique is, it was used in combination with the Hiseiken. I leap away, arm still attached but torn and hanging limply at one side.

I turn and dodge back to defend myself against a long series of his attacks, mostly by doing the easy thing and keeping out of range, while my arm slowly heals. Well... slowly is relative to the other wounds I've received; it only takes about six seconds. I notice that, somehow, the healing doesn't drain me like the aura does.

After my arm heals, I move back into the scuffle, closing holes in my defense that the opponent notices and observing Pai Mei's reactions to my own attacks. I slowly pick up his style, learning enough to predict his attacks and defenses, and adapting my own style to it. That detached observer within me learns two new Tai-Chi style shoves as I watch. I slowly innure myself to the pain of those white flames as they strike my arms, legs, and chest, and they heal, again and again and again.

I keep my gaze fixed on Pai Mei. This guy's playing serious with iron claws and burning fists. I'd probably be dead already if I couldn't heal like I do, but I'm not sure he'd be using those techniques if he didn't notice my healing and decide he could go all out on me. He didn't use any of them until I started glowing blue, myself. I guess I'll just assume the best.

Then I notice my blue aura has died. My confidence has been shot once again. So this is why Pop said emotion-based auras are such fickle things; perhaps I need to find another emotion or mindset to pour my energies into. Whatever I can be in mind, body, and spirit, eh? Well, what can I be right now? Scared? Probably a bad choice; I'd be invoking the Saotome Secret Technique in a jiffy. Hopeful? Another fickle emotion. If I can most easily be anything in mind, body, and spirit, then it is ME, but I haven't a clue on how to dump energy into that. I glance about. Buddha? Way out of my league; I'll never be an ikibotoke (living Buddha). My gaze returns to the man chasing me down even at this moment with fiery hands.

Can I be Pai Mei? Now that's a ridiculous idea; even if I could copy him mind, body, and spirit, I'm sure I don't want to. On the other hand, picking up his skill at insults could leave Oyaji floored without even a punch. But, I'm Ranma and would rather remain that way. Yet Pop said I'd snap back if I'm flexible enough, and picking up those techniques of his and his combat style would be good for the Saotome Masubetsu Kakuto Ryuu, if I can manage it, and would also be good for fighting demons. Pop is always insisting on learning from every opponent, despite my tendency to ignore weaker opponents.

Well, perhaps I can pummel energy into being detached, observant, and analytical, like a scientist or a crime scene investigator. I'm often that way against superior opponents anyway. Heck, I'm already doing it to Pai Mei, or at least part of me is, so it isn't too much of a jump at the moment. I just need to pump energy into that part of me. Rather than having some detached part of me being the observer and I'll be the observer mind, body, and spirit.

I back away from the combat, and try to shove ki energy into being a detached observer, but nothing happens. I don't feel the movement or consumption of ki as I felt with my confidence aura. I think about this carefully; I need to be a detached observer in mind, body, and spirit. There's that detached, analytical observer part of my mind, but that is only part of my mind; the rest is acting, thinking about what Pop would say, feeling pain, thinking of insults. My mind isn't focused. My spirit is definitely expressed in my actions... currently I'm not acting just to observe and analyze, instead one part of me is acting to defend myself and defeat the opponent, and that detached observer in my mind is just working with what information it has. My body, finally, is currently in a somewhat detached state; I'm just ignoring the pain, for example. However, I need to encourage a greater detached observer state. If my mind, body, and spirit are going three different ways, I need to change to unite them.

I can't just shove ki energy at a state; I need to actually be in it first. At least I think that's what Pop meant.

Over the course of the next ten minutes of fighting with Pai Mei, I slowly work on detaching myself from my body. Rather than grimacing in response to the pain of scorched arms, I pretend it happened to someone else. Rather than getting disoriented when I'm knocked head over heel through yet another Buddha statue, I command my dizzy body to stand and back off until sobriety recovers. In addition, I focus my attention to observing my surroundings and Pai Mei. I analyze his technique and especially focusing my attention on Pai Mei and how I can use these surroundings in my fight with him. I almost watch myself kick an already detached Buddha head right into Pai Mei's face. It flies through an opening I designed, and bounces off his nose; he sends a stream of curses my direction. Finally, I tailor my actions to aiding observation and analysis. I strike here and there to probe for response, sometimes intentionally predictable and sometimes performing wild combinations of moves that I'd never be able to predict. I open and close my defenses, sometimes leaving intentional and brief holes to bait his response all the while observing and closing unintentional holes in my defenses. This behavior often leaves me in pain after Pai Mei takes advantage of the smallest holes in my defense with his holy fire iron eagle claw technique.

And, as I finally feel myself reaching the state I desire, I sense ki flowing into it, solidifying it, without me even pushing. However, I push and shove even more ki into the state, focusing with all my attention. Words come to my mind, and I say, "Zenkeigan," and suddenly I'm no longer in my body. Instead, I'm above it, below it, around it, behind both myself and Pai Mei. I feel, hear, smell, taste, and see everywhere at once; however, this input too much, vision without focus. So I focus. I'm in the air, watching cars drive by in the distance. Cool. SLAM! The person below me is knocked backwards in his moment of inattention... stupid boy. I watch with disinterest as the boy crawls back to his feet, scorched gi burned through in dozens of places. I move to the ground and focus my attention into it, watching a few small worms crawl through the damp earth below the cobblestones. CRUNCH! THUMP! A shockwave rolls like thunder through the ground, deafening me. I lift my head to see the boy crawling out of yet another Buddha statue. The boy prepares a fairly feeble defense against Pai Mei's attacks, defending mostly on instinct and schooled reactions, although as I drift closer the defense increases rapidly and my body starts to return attacks at holes I see in Pai Mei's defense.

My body?

Wait! That boy that seems to be paying little attention to the fight... that's ME! Where's my attention? I detect the answer returning from some other part of my mind. Oh, I'm it. Very Funny. I focus myself on the fight; after all, I can't allow me to lapse. I occasionally shake my head at how stupid my body's actions or defenses are, and focus on how to respond in the future. I also carefully watch Pai Mei's excellent technique, observing the subtle shifts of his legs and hips, and I listen with interest to those streams of insults spewing from his mouth. I feel my body getting angry in response to those insults, but a suggestion, just a brief thought from me, leaves it ignoring the insults; after all, they'll be useful against Pop. I can't seem to make Pop angry anymore... but soon I'll be a master of words.

My body doesn't always take my suggestions, which surprises me. When I mentioned several openings in Pai Mei's techniques that I observed, my body refused to attack them. Weird... it is as though I'm not the me in my body; I'm a different me. When I ask, the me in my body lets me know it was too injured and out of balance to attack those openings at the moment. Perhaps I need to focus some of my attention on the me in my body, too. I've been ignoring it so far. I reach into it, and vaguely sense the things as my body does; I feel pain, see through the eyes, taste the blood in the mouth, sense the anger and fatigue in my body's attacks. I sense an utter lack of confidence of my body in this crazy new technique. It wants me back; it tries to drag me in, but I tell it to stop, and it does. However, these sensations are muted, as though they are happening to someone else and I'm just being told about them, even as I still observe from outside. However, this connection also allows me to more voluntarily control the body; I subtly shift my balance in response to precise knowledge of the terrain below me, and exact knowledge of Pai Mei's own balance as I can determine it from my indirect, remote contact with him. Rather than being completely outside my body making mental suggestions about what to do next, I actually have some fine control where I feel I want it.

For the next half-hour of fighting with Pai Mei, I observe and adjust and get used to moving my attention deep into my body for complete control, then back out to the point where I'm just observing and commanding or making suggestions. I become a bit of a coach, viewing everything from a second perspective, teaching my body how to act and respond to Pai Mei's style. I carefully observe and learn Pai Mei's techniques and style for both present defense and future integration into my style, where appropriate. Despite my observation, however, I still don't figure out how the Hiseiken and Washi Tsumetetsu work... I figure I probably need much greater experience with ki techniques to learn them by observation as easily as I currently learn physical forms. Unlike a real coach, even during the worst of the fight, when my body's ears are ringing and head is spinning, I can still somehow reach in and communicate with me. Regardless of where I position myself, I feel as though I'm detached from my emotions, senses, and feelings. My ability to communicate with the me in my body rapidly increases, especially as I begin to always leave part of myself focused 'inwardly' on my body.

My body and I slowly come to an understanding as we are two different people fighting in tandem. My body fights independently using my own observations, in addition to those it can garner from my attachment to it even if I'm not directly paying attention. When I make suggestions, it lets me know what it thinks of them if it doesn't follow them immediately. In return, my body forces me to promise to try to keep it out of pain... it was rather upset with me before, and it requests I cordone off a section of my mind where it can perform some independent analytical thought and observation. I sense a vague, distant fear that I might be messing with my mind irrevocably... I might end up with two minds in one body... or one mind in two bodies, I'm not really sure... but the fear isn't mine, is it? The fear is too distant. So I do it; I couldn't say how, but it was easy, almost natural; it's the way things should be.

Perhaps not so unusually, there is absolutely no problem with miscommunication; we aren't 'speaking' with each other in any sense of the word. It is more as if almost all analytical and observational thought is simply shared between us. The body's newfound ability to think and observe independently is sensed in the background of my own thought, and vice versa; I simply know the body feels the same because it allows me to know. As another example, I need not more than notice a hole in Pai Mei's defenses or my own for my body to attack or defend it appropriately... and when I notice certain holes in Pai Mei's defenses are traps, and recognize a counter that may be performed with my body's current condition and balance, my body immediately follows the suggestion and gives me a mental thumbs up.

This is a really weird technique, I think. Weird, but cool. While allowing my body to defend itself for a few moments, I wonder for a moment what other techniques might be built around it, and how far I can drift from my body. I can really imagine this technique being great when I get bored during classes at school, especially if I can wander into a nearby theater. What is the limit of my range? Could I learn to lift things with this unusual existence by focusing ki? My body grins internally at that thought. Then we really could fight in tandem. We? We're just one person, right? Right. My body agrees with me.

Then, in my moment of inattention, my body sends me vague signals of Pai Mei bypassing my body's defense in a moment of weakness, causing it to stumble backwards. After five quick fiery punches to my chest, I can feel the arythmic beating of my body's heart pounding loudly, demanding attention. Pai Mei simply backs up and watches with arms crossed as my body regains standing position, then steps forward, painfully slow. After five steps, the body collapses, and I ... vanish.

After what feels like forever, but couldn't be more than six to ten seconds, I shove myself back to standing position. I feel hurt, drained, dead tired in the most literal sense, as though I'm about to fall over and die or just did. Even as I stagger to my feet, the intense pain in my chest fades away. I turn my gaze to my tormentor and glare daggers at Pai Mei, then settle back once more into a lazy ready stance. Whatever was going on in my head before, the Zenkeigan technique, is gone. I shudder, although I'm ambiguous as to whether it is with fear for what I did to my head, or in exhileration for the future promise of that technique.

Pai Mei stares back, arms crossed but eyes wide. Astonishment is plain on his face. He drops his arms to his sides, but instead of dropping into combat stance or hurling insults at me, he just says, "Well, child, I'm impressed. Join me in the temple and I may choose to aid you, although I do have some questions." With that, he turns around and walks into the temple building itself.

I spend a few minutes looking around at the grounds. Craters pecker the cobblestone walkway. Divets tear into the otherwise perfectly kept grass. Only one Buddha statue, one nearest the temple building, remains standing. My own gi is ruined, although it still covers enough to be legally decent. I glance at the koi pond in time to see another koi plop into it.

Then I turn and follow Pai Mei into the temple proper.

(ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo)

Author Note:

Pai Mei is modeled loosely from Pai Mei in Kill Bill, although he's willing to speak Japanese and happens to have Ranma-verse level martial arts. Insults are obtained and adjusted from 

--

New Techniques in This Chapter:

Hiseiken – Holy Fire Fist (possible alternative: Joukaken, or Sacred Fire Fist); This technique sets the hands ablaze with holy cleansing white flames. The fire is spiritual in nature, capable of damaging many demons immune or resistant to natural flame, in addition to being just that... white-hot natural flame capable of melting metal, heating stone, and scorching flesh with third-degree burns at a touch. The flames may be thrown at a moderate velocity, but are easy to dodge. It takes a great deal of ki reserves to use for any great duration, but not as much as big blow-things-up techs like Shi Shi Houkodan or Moko Takabisha. Used by: Pai Mei

--

Washi Tsumetetsu – Eagle Iron Claw; This technique involves forming a claw with your fingers and thumb, then using ki to strengthen the fingers. A master gains neko-ken claw style 'sharpness' to the fingertips, capable of cutting from a short distance (a few centimeters, as opposed to the couple feet granted by nekoken). This claw can be used to cut into the opponent with a thrust, or slash the opponent up. It is easy to use quickly and continuously, and has power equal to the hand-to-hand yamasenken techniques. Used by: Pai Mei

--

Zenkeigan – (very roughly) Insightful All-Seeing Eyes. This is an internal technique similar in some ways to Soul of Ice from the normal Ranma-verse. The effect of using this is almost hallucinogenic in nature; the user feels detached from his or her body completely in something similar to an out-of-body experience, and observes the fight from a distance. The user sees, feels, smells, hears, tastes everywhere in the immediate vicinity at once, in addition to whatever other senses you have. However, as with eyes, the user must focus on just one thing at a time and the rest is peripheral. Not all of the mind is detached; from the outside perspective, the body continues to fight with all of its normal skill within the limits of its attention. From the body's perspective, its attention is wandering dangerously and can actually see and contemplate all sorts of things the person wouldn't normally see or contemplate during battle. Any pain, fear, anger, arousal, hope, etc. is sensed but it feels vaguely like it's happening to someone else. Be careful; like drugs, misuse of this technique could affect the mind permanently. Used By: Ranma


	7. Sweat and Tears

Void Contract

Chapter Six: Sweat and Tears

obsidianfox

Started: Aug 07, 2004

Last Updated: Aug 28, 2004

Some say everything started with a word from kami. However, before kami could speak, kami must have inhaled. Therefore, everything starts with breath.

-- Genma Saotome on the Importance of Breathing

(ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo)

"So, child, you're the first person to ever get back up after being struck with the Gotenhira Happashin. It makes me doubt that you're human," says Pai Mei as he returns from the antechamber. The old man carries a small pad of paper and glances sidelong at Shiina, who sits curled up with her chin behind her knees on a bench in a distant corner. He sits on the bench across from me. A cup of steaming tea sits in front of me.

"Of course I could take it!" I snort derisively. "It ain't much to get back up after a few slaps to my chest. I've taken worse."

My eyes wander the dimly lit chamber. Buddha statues line the walls; each is painted a dull green and sits on a white rendai (a lotus seat designed to support Buddha statues). The motif of white lotus on green is prevalent throughout the temple. Although the actual furnishings aren't particularly expensive or impressive, the gestalt leaves me instinctively fighting a growing sense of humility. Besides Pai Mei, Shiina, and me, the temple feels devoid of people, although I've glimpsed a few shaven monks moving about silently.   
  
"I don't think you understand, you arrogant piss. When I say no person ever gets back up, I mean it quite literally. Now for a test," says Pai Mei. At this, he lifts a piece of paper from his pad of what I vaguely recognize as ofuda (paper magic), and he tosses it across the table in my direction. The ofuda darts through the air towards me like a knife. Sitting as I am, I choose to swat the paper aside with one hand rather than dodge awkwardly. However, when my hand contacts the paper, the paper sticks and starts burning with white fire. I hiss in pain, then stamp the flame out on the table top with my hand several times while glaring hellfire at Pai Mei.

"Whaddya' do that for?" I demand as I caress my injured hand.

"What sort of demon are you? Are you hanyou, half oni or youkai? Or do you carry older demon blood, like Happosai?" Pai Mei asks casually, as if such things aren't particularly uncommon.

"Hey! I'm not a demon! I'm HUMAN!" I shout angrily. Then I snarl, "Demons should just DIE."

Pai Mei's eyes flash in anger. "Racism is a trait unbecoming a martial artist, you Japanese maggot. Build yourself a cocoon and grow into a real man."  
  
"HA! As if YOU'RE one to speak, Mr. 'I despise Japanese'," I say triumphantly.

A small smile mars Pai Mei's stern visage. "I am not racist, idiot child. I hate everyone equally. Anyhow, it matters not what you are; you'll make an interesting student to say the least."

As the venerable man gazes into my eyes with his, I detect idle curiosity mixed with sakki (killing intent). I shudder involuntarily at the disturbing feeling, but sense no attack, so for the moment I ignore it. Instead, I grin widely; finally, I found someone to teach me! And the day is only half over! "When can we start?"

Pai Mei gazes into my eyes a few moments, as though pondering, then walks off to another room. I sip my tea, wondering if he'll be returning soon, then my attention returns to Shiina. I turn to look at her and find her staring back at me with some hostility. Then I notice drying tracks of recent tears glistening on her cheeks, and my stomach twists up inside me. I put the tea down and walk over to her. "Shiina? Don't cry. What's wrong? Is there anything I can do to help?"

Then she backs away from me, keeping me from getting close to her. I halt my approach nearby a stone Buddha and its white rendai. She couldn't be crying because of something I did, could she?

"What a teary-eyed slip of a girl. All women ever do is cry and make babies... and spend a man's money. This one... she'd make a good waitress or geisha if someone trains her properly," says Pai Mei, returning from whatever room he left for earlier. I turn to glare at the abrasive man who will surely make Shiina cry some more, but only see a fistful of scrolls shoved into my face. "Return when you've read and understand these and accomplished what they describe; then your training will begin, and thus it will have begun," Pai Mei intones seriously. Then he adds, "Heh. I don't ever expect to see you back here, worms-for-brains, and I'm not willing to push you through the basics. I'll send some monks with food. After you two eat, depart at once."

I gather the scrolls into my hands, then Pai Mei again turns and leaves. I spend a moment wondering how to carry them conveniently before I give up and decide to find a means later.

When I turn to look at Shiina again, she's staring angrily at Pai Mei's retreating back. I can almost see the fire dancing in her eyes. My stomach relaxes, slipping out of its Gordian knot because the tears in her eyes have been replaced with fire. Then she turns to me. "YOU! " she growls, angrily jabbing a finger into my chest; she winces and withdraws her hand while caressing her finger. "What are you? Those wards against evil... they held you away from the temple, and they burned you when you touched them. I'm sure Pai Mei killed you with his final blow; I've seen more than enough death to recognize it. You can't be human. What are you? Are you a demon, like what killed my parents? Are you planning to kill me, or worse? WHAT ARE YOU!"

I blink at the unexpected accusation for the second time that day, ignoring the rest of what Shiina had to say. "Hey! I'm HUMAN! The wards are just confused or somethin'..." I pause for a moment, gazing evenly into Shiina's enrapturing eyes. I watch helplessly as the fire in her eyes sputters under threat of her tears. I'm unsure what I must say to help those tears dry away.

Then, suddenly, enlightenment arrives fully-formed with internal bells and whistles, hailing from that detached analytical part of my brain that doesn't usually see use outside of combat with skilled opponents. I, being a Saotome, begin speaking my mind before comprehending the idea.

"That's it! It must be that demon blood from yesterday; I got the stuff all over my hands and shoulder, and that stuff is impossibly sticky. See?" I pull from my gi Shiina's five throwing knives, including the pair that is stuck together by the yellow ichor, and hand them to her.

She accepts them. Question is plain on her face.

"I pulled those knives out of that thing's body as it died," I say. "I washed them 'bout half an hour later, but two of them are stuck. I was kinda' hopin' ya'd teach me to throw things like you do. Anyhow, some of the demon's blood must have gotten' mixed with my blood through one of my wounds; I got the gunk all over my hands, and I had several cuts at the time, and I cut myself a few more times while washin' the knives and peelin' them apart from the sticky yellow mess. Those things are sharp! Anyhow, that must be what Pai Mei meant about carrying demon blood; if some of its blood mixed with my own, it might make wards work on me."

My eyes widen at my own words as understanding dawns on the rest of me and hits me emotionally. If I'm affected by wards, thus I'm not entirely human anymore... at least not for now. I look at my feet and scuff my toe against the hardwood floor before continuing. "I'm definitely human, and don't feel any different... but... part of my blood is the same demon that killed your parents. I'm not sure if that is a temporary or permanent thing, or what all effects it has on me. ... If you can't accept me because of this, I- ... I'll understand." I look into her eyes, pleading. I don't want to lose my new friend. I haven't had a good friend since Ryouga, and I've never really had a girlfr- a good friend that also happens to be a cute girl.

Shiina approaches me and gazes closely into my eyes and face, searching for any hint of falsehood, and finding none; I'm absolutely confident in my enlightened revelation. My whole body feels her closeness, feels the heat radiating from her slightly shorter body, and I simply gaze back. Finally she smiles at me... just a tiny one that lightly dimples the corners of her mouth, and I return it with my own relieved smile.

"Friends?" she finally asks after the interminable pause.

I nod. "Friends."

Then I stand shock still, pigtail pointing straight backwards, as Shiina pulls me into a light hug, and brings her lips lightly and briefly to the corner of mine in a light peck. Then Shiina rests her head upon my shoulder. I feel the wetness of her tears against my cheek. I smell her sweat-wet hair and a light hint of fruity perfume. "Thank you. I... really need a friend right now," she murmurs.

While I stand there, arms at my side and Shiina leaning against me, I feel awkward; the total extent of human contact I've had in almost ten years involves either bruising the other human or receiving bruises in turn. Pop believes showing any sort of affection between guys is 'unmanly', even if it is between father and son. I'm unsure of what to do or say; in the whole of my memory, I've neither received comfort from nor given comfort to anyone. My best friends were guys like Ryouga and Ucchan, with whom I playfully sparred and insulted just as I do with Oyaji; comfort was simply never an issue with them.

However, the position of vulnerability Shiina is in, crying upon my shoulder, demanding comfort, brings to mind those few memories where I've seen a mother comforting a child. Just thinking about it brings back my own hurt, my own loss; my mother, Nodoka, is out there, and I want to feel her embrace, to receive comfort from her.

But it hits me that I'm wanting something Shiina will never experience again. It hurts me, knowing that I can have a mother's love, something Shiina can't ever have again, because my mother is still alive even if remote while hers is not. The thought twists in my heart like a knife. She needs a friend, for she's lost her family. I can be that friend. I WILL be that friend.

Making a best guess at what to do, I wrap an arm around her and simply hold her body against my own, patting her back softly, slowly breathing the sweetly scented air that passes through her hair. After a minute, I whisper into Shiina's cute little ear, "I'll be here for you, for as long as you need me. I promise." For a long while, we hold each other, even as shaven monks silently bring in a few meals on trays and lay them at a nearby table.

"You two are like dogs in heat. Take it to motel! They have special down the street," retorts Pai Mei's voice from a distant chamber, breaking the long silence.

"Shut up you geriatric chimera of tortoise and slug! They say farting is the last act of a dying man. You're an old fart: silent, deadly, and lingering only to raise a stink for the children who follow!" I shout back with a newfound mastery of insults from my recent battle with Pai Mei. I lift my arm from Shiina's back and shake my fist in the priest's general direction.

From that distant chamber, I receive a surprised guffaw of laughter from Pai Mei. It obviously isn't a sound he's used to making. "I've killed men for less, boy. However, I must admire your spirit; you remind me of me. But don't push your luck. For now I request your silence that I may return to my meditations and my monks to theirs," his answer returns like a deep voice from kami, echoing from a distant chamber.

Shiina giggles at our antics, sniffles and rubs her nose lightly with the back of her hand then pushes away from me. After we separate, we move to the trays of food and eat silently. It is almost a hidden tenet of Saotome honor to never pass a chance at free food.

A few minutes later, we leave; I avoid the wards at the gate by jumping over a garden wall.

(ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo)

Arrgh! I throw the scrolls to the ground in frustration. "They're all in Chinese," I growl angrily. Pai Mei gave me seven scrolls, and excepting a few diagrams and what appears to be a map to someplace in mainland China, I don't understand anything in them.

"So what now?" asks Shiina.

I grab a scroll at random and shove it towards her. "Can you tell me what this one says?" She takes it and begins to peruse its contents.

We've returned to the place where we camped last night... well, camped isn't the word; Shiina and I squatted in an abandoned floor of a skyscraper, like Pop and I sometimes do. I figure it's of the sort that rents out different floors to different folks. For mobility, that is, the ability to jump around while carrying Shiina, I hid my pack here before we left in the morning. At the moment, however, the pack's contents are scattered about so I can build a safe spot within the pack to store the flimsy fragile scrolls.

"It appears to be a series of recipes... rice, chicken, salads, soups, fish, fish heads, and others. A little note at the top says, 'A good student can cook for his master. Be able to prepare each of these dishes to the satisfaction of another.' Maybe Pai Mei wants you to cook for him during your apprenticeship?" says Shiina.

I growl, "So he wants me to cook for him, does he? Well, I-! ... I guess I can deal with that. I do it for Pop, anyhow."

Shiina shrugs. "I'll help you translate these, but I have something I want you to do for me."

"Anything," I respond, shrugging in kind. "What are friends for?"  
  
Shiina glances at me, blushes, then turns away. "I want to be able to jump like you can," she replies sincerely. Her exotic eyes dance longingly across the rooftops of Hong Kong.

"I can help ya', but there ain't really any special trick to it 'cept the breathin' and the thinkin'. Everythin' starts with breathin'. As Pop always says, 'A true martial artist is whole: mind, body, and soul.' Ya' gotta' be unified. But, once you've got that down, ya' just need to work it long n' hard."  
  
For some reason, Shiina blushes again. I pause briefly and blink in response, then continue.

"Anyhow, it will be a LOT of hard work for you. And I dunno' if you'll ever get as good as me; I mean, I'm the best. Most people I've met... err.. well, most people I remember can jump at least one story from a standstill, and many of them can jump 'bout two stories. I can do as much with my pack, even three stories if I push myself. Playin' tag with Pop in Hong Kong 'n other big cities is making me a lot better at the whole jumpin' thing... it's a long fall if you miss a jump around here. Good practice for breakfalls too. Anyhow, I think ya' can train to jump at least two stories if you stay with us 'bout a month or two; you already know some martial arts, so you've got a good start, but I'm not sure how advanced you are. However, a suburb would be a better place to start."

She simply nods, still gazing across Hong Kong.

"I want to ask ya' somethin'," I say a bit nervously. I don't like the idea of asking for help from a girl. "I'd like ya' to teach me to throw things like you can... and maybe basic gun-use n' safety n' stuff. I've done a little paintball, but mostly just dodgin' while wieldin' a paintbrush. I need whatever weapons and skills I can get to fight these demons."

Shiina opens her mouth to respond, then shrieks. Was my request really so awful? However, she's not looking at me. My eyes widen as they trace hers; a yellow streak heads toward the window from a nearby rooftop. CRASH! Shattered glass sprays in our direction. I leap to cover Shiina even as Shiina leaps for cover. Good girl, I think. I end up sprawled upon the ground, and I roll to my feet over shards of broken glass. I hiss in pain as I face my adversary. Directly in front of me is another hellhound, seemingly identical to the one I faced yesterday, excepting all of its limbs are intact; fortunately, it isn't facing me at the moment and is recovering from its own landing.

I launch a fist at the beast, striking its head in the temple. The creature's head snaps away from me and its arm snaps towards me. SLAM! THUMP! I crash against the wall then slide to the ground near my pack, casually tossed aside with a single whip of the beast's three-jointed arm to my chest. The beast shakes its head out of confusion from my blow, then glances about, ignoring my presense, sniffing about intently like a bloodhound with a huge whiff, whiff sound from its beaked snout. "SCREEECH!" the thing belts out its awful high-pitched battlecry.

Something in my head tells me that that someone must be sending the thing after at least one of us, as it doesn't seem Hong Kong is infested with them, but the thought is halted by a scream from Shiina. Think later, act now. The hellhound does the same, and instantly starts loping in her direction, ignoring me.

Dammit! I grab the gun from the ground and chase after the hellhound, cursing myself for my brief inaction and the lack of stopping power in my normal blows. My training up to this point hasn't given me any attacks that can take the thing down, and I'm STILL short a good weapon excepting Officer Kong's gun and however many bullets are left in it. Early this very morning I remember promising to get myself a good weapon. I failed myself, but I'm NOT going to fail Shiina. "Time to DIE, demon!" I shout as I finally catch sight of it down a side hallway. I bounce off the wall to change direction as I barrel towards the creature.

The beast has Shiina backed up into a corner and is approaching it casually, slowly, like it does when it has its prey paralyzed. Thank kami for small favors, I guess; if these creatures just attacked at full force after paralyzing their victims, they'd have killed us all. My ego rebels at the thought, but the rest of me shoots it down; now is not a time for self-deception. I raise the gun to shoot it twice in the back from above, since that is where my bouncing happened to bring me. Click. Click. Damn safety!

"Uh, Shiina, how do I take the safety off?" I ask as I drop towards the creature, which is ignoring me in favor of approaching Shiina casually, slowly, and very very stupidly. My heel lashes in a large arc and smashes into the side of the beast's neck, knocking the hellhound into a nearby wall. It lay there for a moment, making odd gurgling noises instead of breathing normally; however, it immediately takes action to get back up. I take that moment to grab the still paralyzed girl and crash through the nearest door... into a long abandoned women's restroom. However, I hardly notice my surroundings.

"Shiina, you okay? Snap out of it!" I demand. When she doesn't respond, I pat her cheek in a light slap. My guts twist at the tactic; it is too close to a true blow. "Shiina! Wake up! Hurry!"

"Huh? Ranma?" she asks, shivering a bit as control returns to her and life returns to her eyes. I gesture to her with my handgun, holding it by the barrel. She directs her eyes to my gun tnen snatches it from my hand, performs a swift sequence of motions, and immediately returns it to me. I miss most of what she does, and don't understand the rest.

"Hey! If ya' don't show me how to do it, I'll never learn!" I whine. I grip the gun and point it towards the doorway, placing my finger lightly over the trigger. BANG! The gun uselessly attempts to buck out of my powerful grip. "Oops." A hole now decorates the door to the women's restroom. This gun has a hair trigger if ever there was one.

"Dammit, Ranma! Now is NOT the time for lessons, but don't put your damn finger on the damn trigger until you're damn well ready to shoot! Got it?" Shiina shouts at me. She draws Jun Dee's gun from within her gi and also directs it towards the doorway.

"Damn straight," I agree. I glance at how Shiina's gripping her pistol, and rest my finger alongside the trigger guard as she is doing. "Okay! Let's kill us a hellhound!" I shout eagerly. "If it don't come to us, I'm goin' after it."

"I wouldn't be quite so eager to approach that thing, Ranma, but I'll cover you," Shiina replies. She stays behind me and to my left as I approach the door.

"Screech!" The awful sound is muffled by the doorway. THUMP. The doorway swings open; a yellow beak pokes in followed by a pair of fiery orange-red eyes. I immediately focus my vision on the ground below it.

"Don't look into its eyes!" I hiss at Shiina, glancing back to look at her. I'm too late; the gun in her hands clatters to the bathroom floor and she stands there gazing at the beast. I swivel my head back to the creature in time to see it twisting awkwardly into the narrow hallway entry to the restroom and crouching to leap towards us. Its breathing still seems uneven; the earlier blow to its neck must have hurt it more severely than I suspected. I aim my gun at the beast, without looking up from its feet. BANG! BANG! The sound hurts my ears and echoes loudly from the bathroom walls.

"SCREEECH!" The thing shrieks in pain and rage. It leaps towards Shiina. Yellow ichor spurts from a wound in its side where one of my bullets found entry. The other bullet apparently missed.

Acting without thinking, I leap in front of Shiina to absorb the blow, realizing belatedly that simply moving her out of the way would be more effective. The beast's claws lash out towards me, knocking me backwards, tearing into my burnt gi and chest. The gun is knocked from my hand and I fly backwards, bowling into Shiina behind me. Again acting on instinct, I flip behind her and absorb the blow with the wall.

Damn! It's going to take more hits than that.

Then... boom. The sound is dull, muted, but the effects are not. Even as the beast leaps towards our now prone bodies, it suddenly explodes violently, spraying yellow ichor and body parts on everything in the room, including Shiina and me. The head of the beast somehow ends up in the bathroom sink, while one of its two arms ends up draped over a bathroom stall.

Somehow, I reason, whatever I just shot into the hellhound exploded and took the beast with it. Nice gun, I think appreciatively, or at the very least a nice bullet. "That worked better than I expected," I say. Then I push myself to my feet, shifting out from under Shiina, and frown disgustedly as I wipe off several pieces of unidentifiable flesh. I grab the thing's foreleg and pull it off of Shiina, who was covered by many more of the beast's body parts than me because she shielded me from the worst. The foreleg is easily twelve to fifteen pounds.

Shiina puts her good hand on a clean spot on the ground and pushes herself to her feet, wobbling a bit. I grab her shoulders to support her. She examines her clothing and mine, frowning in similar disgust to my own. Then her frown changes from disgust to despair. "No," she whispers morosely. "I'm not going to become like you, am I? I'm not going to become part demon because of this... this goo?"  
  
I shake my head and artificially bolster the confidence in my voice... something I'm used to doing. "No; it doesn't look like you have any wounds for the blood to enter. Anyhow, umm... let's wash up." Then I look at the sink with the head in it; every other sink and the mirror also has yellow ichor sprayed all over it. "Err... and let's go to the other bathroom first."  
  
Shiina simply looks down at herself dejectedly, so I grab her to myself and carry her out of the women's restroom and into the men's.

As I begin to set her down, my gi tugs me to immediately fall forward atop her. I land with my lips pressed against hers. She immediately widens her mouth, closes her eyes, and deepens the kiss. Warmth surges through my body as her warm breath plays upon my lips, nose, and ears. For a few seconds, I lay there, simply enjoying the sensations without doing much to either kiss back or pull away, allowing her to lead. Then I sink into the kiss, close my own eyes, deepen it, and wrap an arm around her body. I pull her close to me.

But then I feel her tongue reach into my mouth and touch my own. I push away, panicking, and lift myself off the ground. However, my gi pulls up on hers, glued via glob of sticky yellow ichor. I blush madly as her soft round breasts come into view. She blushes at me in return. I hurriedly reach out and close her gi once more, and end up with my face again next to hers because doing so pulled me right back down.

She gazes into my eyes; her own hover no more than an inch away. I feel her breath play upon my face. Then a small smile comes to her lips, lightly dimpling the corners of her mouth. "Baka Hentai," she says, softly. Then she reaches up and pecks me on my lips once again with her own.

"Uh, err... it seems we're stuck together," I manage to say, backing off and panicking at how this position and her actions are making me feel. As I feel myself begin to harden against her leg, I pull away in embarrasment. I once again blush madly. To escape, I slip out of my burnt and torn gi-top and leave it attached to hers. "Sorry!Gotta'gowashup!" I rush to the nearest sink and splash my face with cold water a few times before beginning to wash my hands. I almost feel Shiina's eyes dancing on my back.

"You're no fun at all," she pouts. In the mirror, I watch her push get back up off the floor, tearing the sticky goo from the tile. She walks up behind me until she's no more than a few inches from my back; the feeling of her warmth and closeness is stronger than ever. "You saved my life again," she starts, speaking throatily.

Feeling even more embarrased, I break in, "Ah, it was nuthin'."

"NO!" she shouts. "It was NOT nothing. You saved my LIFE, Ranma, and my life is not nothing. And since you saved it -," she pauses and takes a deep breath.

Flustered, I stick my foot in my mouth again. "I mean, it was just my duty. A martial artist protects the weak. You were weak, so I protected ya'."

Shiina's gold-speckled violet eyes gain a little fire. She growls, "You better learn to keep that foot out of your mouth, Ranma; you might need it to run."

"Hey! I sure ain't got no foot in my mouth! I was thinkin' 'bout that tongue!" I shout. Then, realizing what I just said, my hand rises to cover my mouth and I blush a deep red.

A petulant smile wipes away Shiina's expression of anger, replacing it with one far more sultry in nature. "Would you like my tongue in your mouth again?" she asks throatily and very bluntly.

"Ah! I didn't mean it like that!" I say, backing away and waving my hands franticly.

Shiina looks sullenly at the floor and scuffs a toe against the tile. "You didn't like it?"  
  
"No! That ain't what I said! It was- Err..." I blush briefly, but compose myself when Shiina's eyes meet mine. "Listen, Shiina; you don't owe me nuthin'. I ain't gonna' ask ya' to kiss me just cuz' I saved ya' or nuthin'. Yer' my friend and that's enough reason to save ya' a dozen times." I blush again with a silly grin and add, "If we kiss, it should be fer' love. Okay?"  
  
"I do... I didn't... I did... I-" Shiina halts her broken reply as tears well up in her eyes. Then she looks crestfallen at her feet once more and, without looking back up at me, she turns around and rushes out of the restroom.

I blink a few times, feeling a little sick at making a girl cry and wondering where I went wrong.

(ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo)

Feeling a bit pissed-off that we didn't get back to kissing, despite my protests, I sit and work off my frustrations while packing my oversized bag. I had hoped... what had I hoped? Did I really expect her to say she loved me and therefore we could keep on kissing? I look down at the half-eaten bag of rice in my hands, then stuff it into a large pot before shoving both forcefully to the bottom of the bag.

Is that what I really wanted? A declaration of love? How can I expect such? I don't think I could say that to her... and if I did, I think I'd be lying. My body definitely reacted to her heat and rythym, but my heart did not. There was no romance, only passion. I hardly know her... this beautiful girl called Shiina. I don't even know her family name. Could I fall in love with her? What the heck is love anyway? Hell if I know; the closest example I got is whatever makes me stick with my Pop despite the abuse he sends my way in the name of trainin', and I sure ain't sendin' none of that Shiina's direction.

So what sort of relationship do I want with her? Well, kami knows I could use a friend. And then there's the more professional trading of techniques and training and translating Chinese. However, do I want something more? Yes. The answer comes easily. But how much more do I want? I don't know. I do know that I enjoyed the kiss, despite the rather unsavory setting, the floor of a men's restroom while the two of us were covered in demon gore. Yes, I think I'd like more kissing.

Hmmmm. I inhale deeply through my nose, relaxing as I take in Shiina's natural scent... the odor of her sweat, skin, and the natural oils of her hair; a hint of some sort of fruity perfume; her exciting, natural musk; and sterile hospital soap. The collection relaxes me and excites me; it brings the memory of the kiss right strongly into my mind, elicits an erection, and causes me to grin stupidly and stare blankly at a wall for several seconds. Then I blink a few times and recognize what I'm holding under my nose between my hands; it is the bedding Shiina used last night. Baka Hentai, indeed. Embarrassed, I hurriedly fold and stuff it into my bag then look around franticly to make sure nobody saw me.

Heh. I'm safe. With renewed determination and focus, I continue to pack my bag.

Well, I'd definitely like to kiss with Shiina again, and to feel her, to taste her lips. More than that, just imagining my hands wandering her curves makes me shiver in excitement. However, maybe it is better that we are just friends for now. It isn't as though I can stay for long anyways, and I doubt I can convince Pop to let her come with us. And, like Pop said, she belongs with her family. I should concentrate on getting her back to her family.

And then, everything is packed.

Well, almost everything... lying at my knees are the two guns I pulled from the little girl's room. The guns are splattered with yellow gunk like American abstract art. While they still appear to be functional, I'd rather wait for Shiina's pronouncement on the subject. For a long while, I stare at the pistols, unsure of what to do with them or how to transport them safely. I'm sure I don't want to pack them or try to clean them until I'm confident they won't fire by accident.

I glance around, hoping for Shiina to have returned, but I'm outta' luck. I haven't seen her since she ran crying earlier. I know I won't be able to find her unless she wants to be found; Hong Kong is a big place. However, I should go look for her; I made her cry therefore I should make it better.

I grab the bag and gingerly pick up the two guns and move the lot of them into a janitorial closet, the same place I hid my bag this morning.

Hope and despair wage a war. What did I say to make her run? Is she safe? What if she is attacked by another of those beasts? I wonder if this is how Pop feels when I occasionally disappear on him?

I begin my search for the girl with the prettiest violet eyes.

(ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo)

"Yo, Pop! You haven't seen Shiina come by, have ya'?" I ask the quivering mound of snoring flesh.

Baka Oyaji blearily opens an eye and rolls it lazilly towards my direction. He yawns loudly. "Boy? What happened to your gi? Did you find a temple willing to teach you?"

I nod. "Yeah, but the guy set me some tasks before I could join. He used this really cool move called Hiseiken, which started his fists on white fire; they burned my clothes pretty severely." I blink. "I also created my own move while fightin' him."  
  
Genma sits up. "Created your own move, boy? What sort of move is it?"  
  
"I called it Zenkeigan. It sorta separated part of my mind from my body, enhanced my perception, and let me see all around me at once."

"Ranma, I must warn you, mastery of techniques that affect your mind can be very powerful, but can change you fundamentally. It may be more useful to simply speed up your brain, like any other body part. However, I'm proud of you, m'boy; you're already creating your own school of techniques. That is the ultimate extension of the Masubetsu Kakuto Ryuu." A tear comes to Genma's eye. "Can you raise an aura at will yet?"

I give it a try, but nothing happens. "Ummm... no."

Genma nods sagely. "Then more experience is necessary, and eventually meditation once you have a good handle on raising your aura in battle. Anyhow, you had a question?"

I blink. "Oh, yeah, have you seen Shiina?"  
  
"Why are you looking for her?" Genma asks with a hint of hostility.

"We were attacked by another demon, and, err... well, she ran off after."

Oyaji raises an eyebrow. "Another demon, boy? Your memory fails you again. She fell from a tree. I thought my boy could distinguish trees from demons... oh, how I've failed to raise my own flesh and blood." False tears stream down Oyaji's face. "What sort of tree did she fall from this time?"

I roll my eyes. Of course, he doesn't remember; that evil device, the neuralizer, stole his memory. "Heh. An Oak, Pop. A tall one. We were playin' hide 'n seek, but I just want to find her, now." I grin. "Have you seen her?"

Genma sighs at his feet, then looks up at me again. "No, boy. But, if she does come by, and I'm awake, I'll let her know you came. I'll be ready to go in the morning."

"You heal kinda slow, Pop. Just like an old man."

"You're just lucky it wasn't your intestines ripped up, boy. With this injury, I can't eat properly; without food, I can't heal properly. It's taking a while."

I nod. "Well, I'm goin' back out to look for her some more."

Baka Oyaji lays his head back down on the pillow and instantly starts snoring. I blink a few times. Good form, Pop.

Then I turn towards the exit and sigh. I've searched everywhere I could think of for her, and I have not yet found her. I guess I'll train some katas I haven't yet mastered, and just wait and hope back at that skyscraper.

(ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo)

After finally performing a satisfactory Rampage of the Angry Monkeys, Zoot Suit Riot, and Rumble in the Bronx, I move onto a fourth kata I had not yet mastered: Three Blind Mice and the Farmer's Wife. There's a huge series of Three Blind Mice trials; their purpose is to aid in group combat and blind fighting, and identifying enemies from allies.

I firmly deny responsibility for naming these katas, and my Pop only shudders when I ask who did name them.

A large part of katas, in general, is proper visualization. Part of the reason the Masubetsu Kakuto Ryuu focuses so much on speed is that it is impossible to properly visualize all the effects of getting hit during a kata, so we don't focus on learning to absorb hits; by mastering visualization and speed, you can combat real opponents just like you do in the katas. Three Blind Mice is difficult because I must remove a huge chunk the visualization element from the kata, and instead focus on the sounds. the feel of heat differentials, the sense of nature around me, and more. It isn't something I'm used to doing.

As I said to Shiina earlier, a huge part of martial arts involves thinkin' and breathin'... and bein', I guess. Only fake martial arts, like those taught in America, focus entirely on doing... the proper physical motions. You could teach a robot those, and they'd be strong fighters, but they'd still be missing the true martial arts. Well, on the other hand, robots can make up for missing true martial arts with arms and muscles of steel, and five-hundred horsepower engines. Those do go a long way... like a gun. Even fantastic martial artists can easily lose to guns if they aren't trained in cover and approach and to gain a sense of when someone's pulling a bead on them. Both Pop and I were covered in paint our first few days with the JSDF and American troops. Not even I can outrun cars on a highway for longer than a few seconds, and that would dust my poor shoes and scorch my feet. Only the poor state of AI prevents robot warriors from being as strong as they are in the movies.

However, those robots would be missing something, just as I'm still missing something to master this kata. What I'm missing, Pop always said I'll gain only through practice during combat. However, I'm not sure that is true; as it is, only the bit of training I've had in blind fighting and meditation allows me to perform this kata at all. What he said to me earlier rings in my ears... he said I should gain experience through combat, and then meditation. Pai Mei wanted to focus on his meditations before I left. This particular kata is ultimately more spiritual than physical. It isn't something a robot could do. Perhaps what I'm missing for it should involve some meditation.

So, after a few aborted attempts at Three Blind Mice and the Farmer's Wife, I sit down in lotus position: sitting upright, legs folded, wrists on my knees, and palms cupped upwards. Then I close my eyes and begin meditative breathing. Unfortunately, I have no idea what to do from here. Pop never taught me more than the rudiments of mediation except a few buzz-phrases about 'clearing my mind' and 'visualization' and the meditative breathing. The Three Blind Mice can wait; for now I need to master meditation. Maybe what I really need to do is 'be' empty, mind, body, and spirit... like Pop said over icecream. Maybe meditation is supposed to be a state similar to the Zenkeigan.

So, how does one 'be' empty? Well, starting with the body... I could try fasting, but that isn't the sort of empty I'd prefer to use regularly for meditation, and I know Pop wouldn't approve. Perhaps I just need to relax properly, to remove all tension. Pop mentioned something like that once. I open my eyes and decide to spend a few minutes stretching and calming down. A few particularly knotted muscles cause mild discomfort in my back. I stretch them as best I can; it is unfortunate Pop ain't here to give me a good massage like he always does when I need one. After I figure I've done enough, I sit back into lotus position and focus on breathing. The meditative breathing, surprisingly, relaxes me far further, to the point I'm almost melting like butter and only the interlocking bones in lotus position keeps me upright. Further, focusing on my breathing begins to empty my mind.

Perhaps Pop knows what he's talking about. He usually does, even if he is Baka Oyaji when it comes to anything outside the martial arts. I just wish he explained the whole unification thing years ago. Zenkeigan would have made it a lot easier to steal techniques from other schools, for sure.

That leaves only my troubled spirit... troubled by Shiina's absence, demon attacks, Oyaji's condition. Even as I focus on breathing, I still feel that bit of tension.

So, what does a Martial Artist do or say to ease those tensions? How would I handle it if situations were worse, like if Pop had died instead of merely been injured? That thought forces me to open my eyes and drop out of meditative position.

Even if I can empty myself of those thoughts, how does one take care of the stress, when one can't do anything to solve the problems behind it? Many things are beyond my control, I remind myself. Li Ling Ling told me that sometimes I need to be a warrior... does that mean focusing on what I can control? Does that mean focusing on the now? Is that somehow related to meditation?

Unable to relax again, and with many questions on my mind, I start working for mastery of the Zoot Suit Riot kata. Satisfactory performance is only a start... it simply means I can start working on speed and perfection.

What the heck is a Zoot Suit, anyhow? And who the hell named this kata? "Maybe it was my father's master... Pai Mei mentioned someone called Happosai," I mutter.

And then there is no more time for thought as the kata speeds up.

(ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo)

Far away, in the Japanese Hida mountains, buried under a large boulder covered in Shinto wards, there is a loud sneeze.

"Why, that's the third time today. I wonder who's talking about me? Well, I'll have to thank them for waking me up. Just as soon as I get outta' here... let's just tear out of these chains."

CLATTER. THUMP. "Ouch." Sniff, sniff. "Ungrateful bastards sealed me in a cave. How long have I been out? It couldn't be for more than a few days. That was some damn good sake they gave me, but even Jesus had a damned fine last supper. Well, they sure made a mistake when they failed to finish me off. Yes, indeed, they made a mistake... and I'll make them pay for it. Oh, yes. I'll make them pay."

THUMP. Thump. CRASH! KRAAACK. BOOM! Crumble.

"Ah, the sweet scent of mountain air." Yawn. "What a fine place for a nap."

Clunk.

(ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo)

Genma shivers in his sleep, and begins dreaming of a great evil. "No! Not again, Master! Don't skip out on another bill! Noooo!"

(ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo)

CRASH!

"Oh, my!"

"Kasumi, dear, what's wrong?"

"The family altar! It just fell."

Soun shivers and stiffens. "This is an ill omen indeed."

"Father?"

"Don't worry dear. But, I must go check our stock portfolio. I'll be back to help pick this up in just a bit." He turns around stiffly and begins marching towards the phone.

Kasumi frowns, just a tiny bit, then begins cleaning up the altar. It doesn't do to disrespect their mother like that.

(ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo)

AUTHOR NOTES:

Eating properly cooked rice is good for your wounds. It holds you together from the inside. You know it's properly cooked when it's nice and sticky and gooey, like glue.

-- Genma Saotome, on Rice.

--

New Techniques:

Gotenhira Happashin: very roughly: five point palm exploding heart... although the Japanese behind this is really iffy. Better suggestions are welcome. This technique causes a person's heart to explode; it was actually used by Pai Mei last chapter, ending the fight with Ranma, but was not named at that time. The technique hits five pressure points on the body with fingertips, and after taking five steps the heart explodes.


	8. Date with Danger

Void Contract

Chapter Seven: Date with Danger

obsidianfox

Started: Aug 20, 2004

Last Updated: September 09, 2004

Four things come not back: the spoken word, the spent arrow, the past, and the neglected opportunity.

-- Omar Idn Al-Halif

(ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo)

YAWN. I wake to as a stray sunbeam crosses my grinning face, glaring through an uncovered window in the Hong Kong skyline, but refuse to open my eyes. A light, sweet, fruity scented air fills my nostrils, and my body feels more warm and relaxed than it has since Pop and I visited those healing springs back in Japan. Oh, what a wonderful morning. Oh, what a beautiful day. Hark, this magnificent feeling; I hope that it will stay. This is the first full night of sleep I've had in a month, given my father's training regime and my nightmares last night, and is easily the best night of sleep I've had in years.

I feel great!

I inhale that sweet-scented air deeply, and fully exhale, then repeat twice more just to get my fill before opening my eyes to the harsh sunbeam to face the day, and hard realities like Shiina's absence. I begin to roll out from under my covers, but I stop when I notice something that is soft, warm, and draped over my waist but under my sheets.

It looks vaguely like someone's arm.

Following it to its source, I find myself staring into Shiina's sleeping face. I blink a few times. Maybe Shiina's absence isn't such a hard reality. Seeing her again only enhances the joy.

Her eyes are closed, her face relaxed, and her lips just slightly open. One ear, mostly hidden in her wavy black hair, pokes from underneath just enough to show its tip. She lay on one shoulder, sharing my pillow and laying an arm over my body. From her shoulders drifts a lavender nightgown, several shades lighter than her eyes, covering all the essentials.

Damn, she's cute.

I decide not to disturb her. I didn't expect her to return last night, and certainely didn't expect her to crawl into my covers. If she had simply woken me and asked, I would have set up the tent for her again. I'm forgetting, at the moment, that not even a stampede of elephants can wake me because I'll just dodge every hoof and ignore the noise.

However, I can't say I regret waking up next to her. Not if I feel like this afterwards.

Gasp! Wait! If I woke up next to her, that means I slept with her. Now, I know they say sleeping with a woman feels great, and it definitely did, but if I slept with her, then she might be pregnant! I definitely remember hearing about that; if a man and a woman sleep together, the woman can get pregnant.

Damn... this isn't good. It isn't as bad as being attacked by demons, but it definitely isn't good.

I slip quietly out from under her arm, then begin pacing quietly around the room, chewing my nails, and panicking. Did we use protection? I've heard that rubber is good protection, kinda' like it is for electricity. But, no, I don't have any rubber sheets.

My guts twist painfully inside me.

I'm not ready to be a father! I don't have any money. I don't have any livelihood. I haven't even gotten into high school yet! I'm not ready to be tied down to family. I want to do things in my life, like travel and train and have a little more excitement... err... nix that. I actually could do with a little less excitement for a while. But the principle still holds! I'm far too young to be a dad. And how can I even be a good father when Baka Oyaji is my worst and only example?

I stop my pacing and drop to a sitting position on the floor. It just doesn't seem right that such a thing was forced on me. Anger wells up inside me, and I force it to a low simmer; I can't afford to lose control. If I did get her pregnant, I'll have to do the right thing.

I'll have to marry her.

... but only if I got her pregnant

I wonder how long it will take to find out?

I stand up and begin to pace again for a few seconds, then think the better of it and throw myself into my katas and work to regain my center. If I'm filled with frustrated energy, I might as well use it constructively.

I drop out of my kata as I see Shiina yawn and rise from my bed in her lavender nightgown. I'm still dressed in what is left of the gi I wore yesterday. The moment she seems fully awake, I pounce.

"Shiina, you can't just crawl into bed with me like that! What if you get pregnant?"  
  
Shiina blinks at me a few times, blushes briefly, then grins widely. "That's okay, I bought protection!" She sashays over to a duffel sitting by my oversized pack; her hips sway provocatively. Then she carefully bends over and rummages slowly through her bag; I receive a full view of luscious, well-toned calves and thighs, fading into the lavender shroud of her nightgown; a small trickle of blood runs from my nose to my upper lip. I wipe it away absently. When she rises, she proudly displays a purple box covered in white chinese characters.

I stare at the box for a few moments, having no clue how that box would do anything. It doesn't appear to be made of rubber. On the other hand, I don't really no the mechanics of how girls get pregnant, either. But wait just a moment... that box wasn't even there when I woke up. It was hidden deep in that bag.

"We didn't use that last night," I state accusingly.

Shiina's left brow twitches violently. "Of course not, Ranma," she says condescendingly. "You weren't even awake."

"Huh? So you think it's okay to risk getting pregnant just because I'm not awake?"

If anything, her brow twitches even more violently.

"How do you think I'd feel if I suddenly became a father! I'm only fifteen for kami's sake!" I shout.

"However little you want to be a father, I want to be a mother even less at the moment, Ranma! I'm only fourteen! I can't raise a child!"

I pause for a moment, unsure how to answer that one. Finally, I answer with a question. "Then why'd you crawl into my bed?" I ask.

Shiina quirks an eyebrow. "Well, I saw how cozy you were getting with the bedding I used the other night." I blush, embarrassed. She grins and continues, encouraged by my embarrassment. "And, well, I decided that maybe you'd like the real me even better. Besides, I don't know how to set up a tent, I'm not strong enough to even move your pack, and you are the only one of us with a pillow."

"Is that all?" I mutter the question, feeling a little disappointed. I'm not sure why.

"No," Shiina answers quietly, drooping her head a bit. "I also feel... comfortable and safe, sleeping at your side." More loudly she adds, "You're like the perfect security blanket." She chuckles a bit, a throaty sound from deep in her chest that somehow sounds far more attractive than her girly giggles I heard yesterday.

I haven't a clue why what she said is funny, and I don't feel she's insulting me. I'm unsure how to respond. My thoughts briefly return to my soliloquy yesterday. After a long moment, I respond, "I... kinda'... enjoyed wakin' up with ya' next to me, too. And..." my voice grows really quiet, but I'm confident Shiina hears every word as I add, "I also kinda' liked the kissin'." Shiina positively glows. I cringe inside, knowing that my next words will hurt her, but also knowing I can't leave it at that. I speak up again and finish, "But I think I was right yesterday; those are the things for people that love each other. And, I can't say I love you..." yet. I don't actually speak that last word.

The hurt that appears on Shiina's face in response to my words almost breaks my heart. I catch only a moment's glance at it before she looks towards the ground, hiding her features from my discerning eyes. I wince, feeling as though my words hurt her as much or more than my hands ever could. Such hurt is due to my inexperience with words; a master of words could make that hurt go away. All I know how to do with words is to insult, to hurt others. I look at my hands. Heck, my whole body is a weapon. All I can do is injure-

"You promised!" Shiina shouts angrily, fighting down a sob and interrupting my internal monologue. "You promised you'd be at my side for as long as I need you."

"And I will! As a friend," I say, interrupting her before she says any more. I don't break my promises, but I'm not willing to give her what I believe she's demanding.

Shiina calms down and lifts her eyes to look into my own. She does not answer. I gaze back into her exotic orbs and sense undisguised longing within them; all traces of sadness and anger are gone. Pop said emotions are too volatile for use in the martial arts, but even I'm left wondering about Shiina's mood swings; she flits from one extreme to another without a blink's notice. Either she's a master of manipulation orders of magnitude greater than Baka Oyaji, or she's truly unstable emotionally... which I would be too, if I had lost my parents a few days ago.

The longing in her eyes makes me a bit nervous. I feel like sinking into those gold-speckled violet pools, giving her what she desires, filling the hole in her heart with my own. My heart calls out its own desire; the kiss, her smell, the feelings I had when waking up and seeing her next to me... I'd like more of that.

But I don't really know her. I certainely can't say I love her.

I just don't feel ready for that kind of relationship... at least, not yet.

I shift my weight from one foot to the other. Eventually, I speak up again, looking at my feet to avoid her eyes. "Maybe... maybe, we will eventually...- I'm just not ready for more than friendship."

Shiina throws her arms around me, then looks up and gives me a kiss on the corner of my lips... not the deep, long, hot and passionate kiss we had yesterday, but instead a quick and furtive one. Then she tucks her head onto my shoulder again.

Still, it was a kiss. And I'm embraced in a hug. And I wonder if my words got through to her at all. However, I can't bring myself to push her away.

"What'd ya' do that for?" I ask curiously. It isn't at all the accusing way I usually ask that question. I find myself dropping my arms around her and pulling her against my bare chest, returning her hug.

"For you being my friend. For you saying there might be a chance in the future. For you not rejecting me completely. That would have hurt too much..." she shudders against my body. "It would have hurt so much I'd feel like dying."

The honesty I sense behind her quivering words hits me. I've been in enough pain that I've felt like dying before, but never from words or emotions... only after particularly painful training sessions. Except... well, now that I think about it, maybe there have been a few times, when I was younger, when Pop's barbs and insults hurt me that much, when he said I was a failure or girly and Mom would be ashamed. It is hard to remember the hurt after I bury it and move on, but it's there, or at least it was. Are words truly so powerful? Then I had best master them soon; a weapon only half-learned can easily hurt people on accident. I hold Shiina a bit tighter, then let her go and look at her fragile features and her very female figure. I don't want to hurt her.

"Ranma?" Shiina asks lasciviously.  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"What are you doing?"

Upon her asking, I notice I'm staring directly at her chest. I raise my eyes to her face and grin sheepishly, "Uh... I was uh... wondering where ya' got the nighty."

Shiina smiles a little, but somewhat sadly, and answers, "It was a gift from my godmother, O-Ren Ishii."

I frown a little and try to move the conversation onwards. "Umm... that's not what I meant, really. I was kinda wonderin' what ya' were doin' all yesterday and stuff. I mean, you brought back a bag and clothes. Do ya' still have the gi I lent ya'? This is all I've got left," I say dejectedly, waving a hand towards my the burnt and torn and splattered ichor-yellow leggings which show through to my boxers in spots. "We need ta' wash up n' get dressed n' get breakfast, and meet with Pop after gets out of the hospital today. I do hope those officers are still payin' the bills... Pop n' I don't have insurance that's any good in China."

"I picked my stuff up from the hospital and the hotel my parents and I were staying at. Then I did a little shopping," Shiina says daintily, trotting towards the duffel. After a second of rummaging, she turns to me and flashes a bright smile. "I didn't forget about you." She hands me a giftwrapped package.

I accept the package and tear into it without hesitation. Within is a dark blue silk dogi with a high lapel, decorated with twin light-blue and silver dragons twisting around the body and down each arm. Also in the package are a pair of black silk kung-fu pants and belt. "Wow, this is nice! Thanks!" I say honestly. Shiina beams at me. Then I add, "But I can't wear this."

Shiina's eyes darken. "Why not?"

"Ain't it obvious? I'm sure it'll be destroyed by the end of the day, between Pop's training and sticky flying demon guts. I've never had anything this nice; I don't want to damage it," I say. My eyes return to the dogi and glitter as brightly as the silvery dragons.

"Ranma, you risked your life to save mine yesterday and the day before. If it gets destroyed killing another demon, I'll buy you a new one. Besides, since it is possible today is the last day of your life, why not dress in style?"

"Huh? That's a weird attitude. Besides, there's still Pop's training... I know that won't kill me but it can be nasty on clothes. It's why we use cheap cotton gis." That and the fact that those gis, wrapped up tightly enough to stay dry, were the only clothes that survived the swim to China and the intervening typhoon which swept us towards Hong Kong. That was a nasty swim.

Shiina responds, "I picked up a few other things too, but I want to see you dressed in that. You don't really think I just bought you one set of clothing? You'd stink like a horse within a few days, the way you work out."

"Hey!"

Shiina grins teasingly. "Hay is for horses."

I harrumph. "Then I'm entitled to it. So, what else did you get me?" I ask enthusiastically.

"Getting a little greedy, aren't you? I'd like to see that on you first. I'll let you know tomorrow morning if you're a good boy. Besides, I need to get dressed. Then I'll start your lessons on guns so you don't accidently shoot me and blow my guts all over your new gi."

"Cool."

(ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo)

"Ah, man! I look like I belong in a circus," I complain, performing a slow kata in front of the bathroom mirror. The blue dogi definitely seems a bit loud and garish compared to my normal plain attire.

On the other hand, it really does look good on me. The color complements my eyes. I could probably go to any night club or expensive restaurant in Hong Kong with this and not feel out of place.

The dogi also feels great, and is very well ventilated, using strategically placed netting to keep the silk from absorbing too much sweat.

"I heard that!" snaps Shiina from a nearby stall. "If you don't like it, you can go walk around naked."

"Bet you'd like that," I mutter. "Can't you get me some normal clothes? You know... things that-"

At this point, Shiina stomps from her stall. She is dressed in a purple dogi equivalent to mine, perhaps only a size smaller, with twin violet-silver dragons. In addition, she's adorned with her violet studs and a thin silver and amethyst necklace, all of which complement her big exotic eyes and her cute little face.

I smile at her.

She continues, still speaking sharply, "How can you possibly believe walking around in a white cotton gi is normal? Besides, you're looking good, Ranma. But didn't you find the headband? That red bandanna doesn't complement your eyes, and doesn't match the gi. It absolutely must go."

"Oh, so that's what this is?" I say, pulling a length of dark blue silk from a pocket. "Thought it was a kerchief." I untie the red bandanna.

"What's that?" Shiina asks, pointing at my forehead.

"What's what?" I ask sharply, dodging the question. I lift the blue silk and looking at it. It has a yin-yang symbol in the center... that just seems so... cliché. Like something out of a bad manga. I frown at it for a moment.

"- that marking on your forehead," presses Shiina.

I sigh. "Some jerks tattooed my forehead when I was drunk. I haven't a clue what it means, 'cept it probably says I'm a loser. I musta' lost a martial arts drinking contest, or somethin'... can't understand why, since Pop says us Saotomes are good at that sorta' thing, and I've won em' before. I don't wanna' talk 'bout it. I'd go kick their asses if I could remember any of that day." I lift the silk band to tie it and hide the markings, but am stopped with a hand from Shiina wrapping around the bandanna.

"You drink?" Shiina asks.  
  
"No, not when I can avoid it."

"So, when do you drink?"

Why does she want to know? "I drink when I have to for a contest, but that ain't often; Pop enters most of those himself if it is the Saotome name or our school that is challenged, so I only need to accept the personal challenges," I say sourly. "Can't understand how drinkin' contests relate to martial arts, but Pop assures me it's part of the Masubetsu Kakuto Ryuu. The few other times were when Pop wanted me to practice drunken combat.

"Other than that, even if I wanted it, Pop is kinda' possessive about his liquor when we're carrying any... which isn't often. I suffered intense training for weeks after the only time I touched his stuff. It kinda' soured me on drinkin'. 'Sides, Pop said drinkin' too much can mess me up at this age, and this sorta' thing just makes it worse." I gesture towards my forehead.

Shiina nods absently at my story while she lifts my long bangs with one hand and peers closely at the marking underneath. I wait abjectly for her verdict. "Wu. It means nothing," she finally says after a pause.

"Nothing? That's a relief. Pop said it probably meant 'baka'. If it don't have any meaning, then it's just an uncool marking."

"I mean, it means nothing, as in the absence of something. It's an old way of writing it, though; I almost didn't recognize it. Wu. Void. Emptiness. It means 'nothing', literally." Shiina giggles briefly then adds, "Your Pop could be right; maybe it is saying your head is empty."

I groan and wrap the dark blue band around my head. Nothing... at least it ain't nothing bad, but it also ain't nothing good. I chuckle internally at my awful pun. I fold the yin-yang symbol to the inside of the silk headband, leaving only the silk showing. I'm not going to exchange "Wu" tattoo for some sort of cliché "yin-yang" symbol; between those two, "Wu" is neater and more original. Besides, emptiness is something I'm working towards with my meditations. However, that is for later. After jerking the silken knot tight beneath my pig-tail, leaving two tails of the blue silk cloth hanging evenly down my neck, I ask, "Okay. We're dressed. Can we talk about guns now?"

(ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo)

I stare with concentration at the scattered pieces of Officer Kong's gun before I reach out and slowly start bringing the pieces together. Shiina and I had already washed the pieces as best we could, and she had shown me how to do this several times. Now she wants me to do it on my own.

"Remember," Shiina says, "guns are really the most basic of weapons. You point the gun at someone, tighten your hand into a fist, and BOOM! He's dead. If your opponent doesn't have a gun, all you need to worry about is aim. Hitting a moving target is more difficult; if your target is dodging effectively with his or her upper body, simply shoot the hips.

"However, if your target does have a gun, then you need to be able to move and dodge while shooting, so being able to shoot from different positions while dodging and running is important. Also, learn to aim without using the sight, since using it can cost precious seconds in combat, especially at close range. ..."

I roll my eyes as Shiina blabs on, speaking the obvious. She had already talked about basic gun safety: finger off the trigger until I'm ready to shoot, know what is behind the target in case I miss or the target dodges, don't point your gun at anyone you aren't willing to kill, don't draw your gun unless you are willing to kill, and if you are willing to kill then be able to do so without hesitation.

And it isn't as though I'm learning to use a gun to shoot _people_. I'm learning to shoot demons and _avoid_ accidently hitting people. My fists are already quite effective at handling people, or at least those not armed with guns, and I can control them well enough to kill or not at my own judgement. I can't control a gun that well... especially not a gun loaded with exploding bullets.

"HA! I'm done!" I shout upon slamming the clip with its four remaining bullets into the gun. I proudly display the completed gun to Shiina. Knowing more about the insides of the thing has made me a lot more comfortable with it.

Shiina hits a button on her stopwatch, takes the gun from me, and examines for a few seconds, and chambers a bullet. "Good job, Ranma. Five minutes and twenty-two seconds. I want you to practice on your own until you can do it in under a minute, then start doing it blindfolded." She removes the ammunition and the chambered bullet, then pushes the bullet back into the clip before handing the clip and gun to me. "You should keep the clip separate from the gun when you don't really need them together. Keeping the gun loaded outside of combat is generally a bad idea, especially without a holster."

"But you do it," I complain.

"Yeah, but I'm a professional; do as I say, not as I do and all that," Shiina smirks at me. "Would you like to go through a few gun katas?"

I blink. "Gun katas? They have those?"

"Yeah, mostly for covering wide areas of fire against multiple opponents, and to make yourself a difficult target while shooting. I also saw somewhere we can play lasertag, and an arcade where we can play shooters against multiple opponents. Those will be good for your aim and reflexes." Shiina smiles coyly, creating those little dimples in her cheeks, and continues, "We can make it a date."

A date with Shiina to learn how to use guns...

I haven't dated anyone since... well, Makichi during my last year in elementary school, almost three years ago. She was a year younger than me, always following me around like a lost puppy and calling me "Sempai" and watching with rapt attention as I perform martial arts katas. When she eventually worked up the courage to ask me out, I almost refused her; I hadn't really started "noticing" girls yet. But even as I started, tears grew in her emerald eyes.

I can't make a girl cry; it makes my tummy twist up in the most painful way possible. So Makichi and I "dated."

We were together for a little under two months. I didn't know what "dating" entailed then, but I had a lot of fun. She liked learning about martial arts, and I especially enjoyed those little bentos she made for me. They were almost as good as my oldest friend Ucchan's okanomiyaki, and far more diverse. My stomach growls just recalling them.

But Makichi wasn't my girlfriend. Not in the ways that matter. After I started hanging with her, I hardly thought of her as a girl. She was just a person I enjoyed spending time with. She was a friend.

And then Pop found out.

He said that girls are a distraction from The Art. We left that school the same week, and that was the last time I went to a school with girls in it. From there I went to that military academy where all the brats joked about my art losing to "gun-fu," at least until I started holding my own with a paintbrush against their paintball guns and paint grenades. Then I spent a few months in that all-boys school where I met my friend Ryouga. And now I'm here in China... well, Hong Kong, at least, and I have a new friend. Another girl.

And she wants to date.

I don't love Shiina, but I've definitely "noticed" her. A date where I learn about gun katas can hardly be considered a distraction from the art. I think I might even enjoy it; we can date as friends, and maybe something more will grow. Yes, a date would be fine. A date would be great.

"I'm in!" I declare, smiling at Shiina. "Let's start by getting something to eat. And I can also start training you to jump like I can, if you'd like."

Shiina's amethyst eyes brighten and her small smile widens into a grin. She grabs my hand and starts tugging. "Come on, then! I know just where to go."

(ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo)

After my second plate, I slow my pace to match Shiina's and lift a bite of phad thai noodles in my chopsticks. I chew slowly, savoring the sweet and potent spices. I smile over flickering candle at Shiina, who's dark eyes twinkle golden back at me. She doesn't take her eyes from me or blink as she eats another bite; it is somewhat disturbing.

Shiina had insisted we dine at a fine restaurant to take advantage of our nice clothes on our first date, so we ended up breaking fast with an early lunch at a nearby Thai restaurant. The prices would have made me balk if I could translate yuan to yen, but as it is Shiina offered to pay and I accepted. I had to. I know from the movies that the guy is supposed to pay on a date, but I haven't any money on me. I also let Shiina order for me because I can't read the menu. Her selections were excellent. I resolve to make this up to her later.

Bite. Chew. Swallow. The silence between us stretches and Shiina's unblinking stare starts making me a little nervous.

"I'll need to pick Pop up from the hospital soon." I say around a bite of phad thai, interrupting the silence.

Shiina's eyes narrow a bit. "You aren't cutting the date short, are you?"

I shake my head and chuckle nervously. "Nah. We can let 'im stew fer a bit."

Shiina smiles. "I'll be happy to thank him properly after our date. He saved my life twice that day, if I remember correctly." She frowns a bit, then adds, "It is hard to recall because of that neuralizer thing... and the concussion."

I nod my head knowingly. "So... Shiina, ya' have any family left? Since yer parents died, you should definitely get in contact with 'em."

Shiina drops her eyes, face downcast. After a moment she asks in a small voice, "What, do you know a medium or something?"  
  
"Huh?" I ask blankly.

She picks at her food and answers sullenly, "Bad joke, I guess. I'd need a medium to get in contact with my parents since they died. Ha ha. I really don't want to talk about it."

I open my mouth to push onwards, then think the better of it. Master of words, Ranma. Eventually I answer, "I'd need someone to talk to. When you're ready to talk about it, I'll be here to listen. I know I wouldn't be doing as well as you are if my Pop was among those that died yesterday."

"Yes, you would," Shiina declares in a stronger voice. Her eyes rise to meet mine, stormy darkness in the candlelight.

"What do ya' mean?" I growl.

"You'd be in shock, you'd grieve a little, and you'd move on," replies Shiina confidently. More shakily she adds, "Because that's what your father would want you to do. He'd want you to be strong." She looks down. "I've been strong for four years, since my parents died."

I break in. "Umm... didn't your parents die just two days ago?"

Shiina shakes her head and looks back up at me. "My parents were killed a little over four years ago by O-Ren Ishii." She growls the name.

I blink. "Your godmother?"

Shiina nods, then pauses before continuing in a lower voice. "She killed Mother and Father in front of me. She even killed Shoe, my little dog, too. I was ten. I can still remember their still warm blood spraying over my clothing, my hands, my face. For some reason, she offered Father a last request. He asked that I live and be provided for. Then she took his head – one swift stroke from her katana's singing edge.

"And she honored his last request. She gave me a new life, a new family. They have been my parents for four years. They were good to me, and gave me what I needed, but they belonged to HER." She scowls then continues, "They were the people you saw yesterday. I'll miss them, but I never loved them. I couldn't. I needed to be strong.

"Father asked that I live and be strong. It was his last request, the only thing he wanted when all else was being taken away. I couldn't allow myself to die inside, emotionally. At first, that was the only strength I had.

"Then they trained me for my new 'job'. And I trained hard... hard enough that maybe, someday, I'll be strong enough to kill my 'godmother,'" Shiina snarls. "And then she shall die."

I grimace. It isn't entirely because I disapprove. I'm no saint, and if someone killed Pop, I can't say I wouldn't want revenge. But killing is wrong. Killing in defense of self or another can be justified, but is still wrong; it is something to avoid when possible. Murder is always wrong. If I killed in revenge, I would be no better than Oyaji's killer. These are things Pop discussed with me when I was much younger. It is an ideal I've held for a long time.

The remaining reason for the grimace, however, is the scowl on her face, the snarl on her lips, the cold fire in her eyes; they appear fundamentally wrong decorating the visage of a fourteen-year-old fragile beauty like Shiina. And I feel the sakki, killer intent, caged and trapped and chained by this little girl. The ability to kill is held in check behind her pretty eyes, hidden by her emotionally fickle nature, yet awaiting release when the moment is right.

I shudder.

The words of her earlier lecture come to mind. Don't point the gun unless willing to kill. When willing, be able to kill without hesitation. In the short time I've known Shiina, I've seen her point her gun at three people. Including me. She really was willing to kill me, without hesitation, if it appeared necessary.

Not that she would have succeeded.

But she has not pointed a gun at me since that first night. Not even when I caught her naked in my tent. The thought brings some relief; the memory brings a fleeting smile.

Then I frown as I return to the issue at hand. Shiina plans to kill her godmother in revenge, the woman who killed Shiina's parents yet honored her father's last request to provide for the girl and did so for four years. Killing her four years ago in anger would have made sense; I could forgive it.

Doing it now would be cold-blooded murder.

And she has held onto her intent to kill for four years. She has been nurturing it. Acute nausea sweeps through me, constricts my heart, and threatens my fragile equilibrium. I feel sick, short of breath, pain in the center of my chest. Is that who my new friend really is? Does she truly intend to become a murderer?

"Please don't," I murmur, almost a whisper.

"Don't? She killed my mother. She killed my father. She honored his request, but she stole everything important from me and forced me into a new life. Why shouldn't I kill her?" Shiina demands.

"Murder ain't right! Besides, what would yer' mom 'n pop think if ya' killed fer' 'em? If you kill her in cold blood, then you ain't no better than she is. Don't let her make ya' a worse person. Don't let her make ya' into a murderer!" I shout.

Shiina's exotic eyes flash violet vehemence. I feel them sweep through me like a powerful gust of spiritual wind. My body reacts to it physically; hairs on my neck stand at attention and danger klaxons wail in my head. Then the tempest quiets. Her sakki is chained and trapped as it had been before.

Shiina hisses bitterly, her eyes penetrating my own and pinning me in place, "I live for Father. I'm going to kill O-ren Ishii for Mother, me, and my little dog, Shoe. It has been my goal for four years. Even SHE knows my goal. She said to my face that she'll be ready when I come. Family honor demands vengeance. Don't. Get. In. My. Way." At that she looks down at her plate and begins deliberately concentrating on her food.

After a few aborted attempts at restarting the conversation, I focus on slowly eating my food and deriving what little joy I can from each bite.

(ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo)

The date becomes more than a little strained following the meal. While Shiina is all too willing to forget about our little fight and move on, I am not. Thus, although is she bubbling and bouncing and giggling between snapping at me for not getting into the festive spirit, I'm just going through the motions... and brooding.

After purchasing a pair of ice-cream cones and handing one to me, she says, "Next week is the Birthday of Kwan Tai," she says. She licks a big dollop of ice cream off her cone then grins at me happily.

"Huh? What about it? Is he someone you know?" How can a girl with such a beautiful, genuine smile be willing to kill?

"No! That's one of the big holidays around here. Hey, let's go in there!" Shiina gestures towards an arcade.

I stick my hands in my pockets, already devoid of the cone which I spent no time enjoying, and follow her in.

The arcade is mostly empty, excepting three truant boys in high school uniforms. The shortest one, a boy a little over my height with slick hair and a slicker smile, snickers a bit at our matching flamboyant gis then strolls towards Shiina, speaking smoothly in Chinese and gestures at the two of us for his friends.

I instantly hate the boy.

"Hee Hawww! Hee Hawww!" The other two punk-wannabes laugh like donkeys and glance at me between gasping for breath.

It must have been a good joke, but I'm confident I wouldn't have liked it even if I understood it. I glare at the two taller boys. (Pow.) "Shiina," I say sweetly, (Crunch. Thump.) "I think the arcade was a great choice for a little entertainment."

The two taller boys lie in a tight tangle of twitching limbs, occasionally emanating a low groan.

I turn to Shiina and see the shorter boy held in a wrist lock, fingers painfully held mere centimeters from the violet girl's tight ass in what obviously was a failed attempt to grope. She flashes a smile in my direction, then shoves the boy towards the floor, still holding the wrist.

The short boy starts shouting angrily in Chinese.

"The boy says his daddy's going to get us, that his daddy is a Triad boss." She pauses thoughtfully. "We really shouldn't pick on the son of a Triad boss and his friends," Shiina says, releasing the short boy. "We're only here for the shooter games. But I agree, it is so much fun."

The boy glares at Shiina, then runs out of the arcade, soon followed by his two companions.

"Triad? You mean like the Chinese Yakuza?"

Shiina nods absently while looking around. "Ah! That's just the game I was looking for," she says excitedly, pointing at a few machines with guns attached by steel wire. She drops several coins into my hand. "This is all he had. Well, let's play!" She drops her single remaining coin into one of the play slots.

She stole his money? I shrug; oh well, he deserved it, the pervert. I plug a coin into the slot and pick up the gun, and play begins.

Soon we are deep in the game, I on my fourth coin and getting better, and Shiina still on her first. Bang! Another enemy down. Bang! Bang! Shiina shoots an opponent I hadn't even noticed.

Neither of us notices the armed bishounen young man with slick hair that slips quietly into the arcade. We don't even notice the rest of his cohort.

(ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo)

OMAKE OMAKE OMAKE

(All characters exaggerated.)

Genma: (With the great wisdom that comes from quoting ancient proverbs that no man dares question) The quickest way to a man's heart is through his stomach.

Ranma: (Looks at the Thai food Shiina provided.) I totally agree.

Pai Mei: No, it is through his chest, nimwit! Come over here, Ranma. Allow me to demonstrate.

Akane: (Growls) No! He can't leave the table until he's eaten. Eat up, Ranma!

At the moment Ranma opens his mouth to protest, Akane expertly spoons a large dollop of hissing, swarthing, smoking greenish-brown (pudding?) into Ranma's open mouth. When she withdraws the spoon, only the handle remains and continues to sizzle and melt from the remaining food particles.

Ranma immediately starts twitching violently and drops to the ground holding his chest.

Pai Mei: (Blinks. Ranma is dead again.) I see that I was mistaken.

Genma: (Nods sagely.) 1.1 seconds, Akane. Impressive.

Akane: How dare you insult my food by playing dead, Ranma! Humph!

Akane pulls out a large mallet and strikes the corpse several times, leaving a large Ranma-shaped crater in the ground. Then she runs upstairs, tears in her eyes.


End file.
